The Floating Outfit 25: The Trouble Busters (A Floating Outfit Western)

by J. T. Edson

‘Now you sure got a good idea there, ma’am,’ agreed Tad.

  From the start Babsy figured she might be going too far. While the two cowhands behaved politely at first, they grew more familiar as the meal—and liquor—progressed. The girl tried to attract Waco’s attention as he sat silently eating a meal across the room, but he refused to be drawn into what he knew must wind up in a fight. Not that Waco feared a fight. He felt a sense of responsibility and knew becoming involved in a public brawl was not the action a good lawman took.

  At last the meal ended and Babsy hoped to get away from the two cowhands so as to go and make her peace with Waco. However, Tad and Beck each took an arm and led her out on to the street. Night had fallen, with a moon throwing some light on the street. To Babsy’s horror there were few people about and the two cowhands began to steer her towards the Fair Lady.

  ‘How’s about a kiss?’ asked Tad.

  ‘Not on the street!’ Babsy gasped, which was a mistake.

  ‘That’s easy settled,’ grinned the cowhand and nodded to the alley between the hotel and its neighboring building. ‘Let’s go down there.’

  Before Babsy could raise any objections, the two cowhands had taken her into the alley. Tad swung her around, curling his hands around her. Up drove Babsy’s knee and Tad let go faster than he took hold, staggering back.

  ‘Looks like she fancies me, Tad boy,’ grinned Beck and gripped the girl by her shoulders, making sure he kept his side to her knee.

  A feeling of panic hit Babsy as the cowhand’s face came down towards her. Once back in England a drunken footman at Freddie’s house caught the little girl and tried to kiss her. Only Freddie’s arrival and a hard-applied riding crop saved Babsy from the possibility of something worse—but this time Freddie was nowhere around. The fumes of whisky came down into Babsy’s face, making her gag and stopping her crying for help.

  ‘G—get off me! ’ she gasped.

  ‘Shuckens, stop playing hard to get,’ Beck replied. ‘I only—’

  ‘You heard the lady!’

  Never, not even with the arrival of Freddie that time in England, had Babsy been so pleased to see a friend come to her aid. She heard Waco’s words and saw the tall youngster grab Beck by the shoulder, heaving him bodily backwards.

  ‘Coo—look out!’

  Babsy began to thank Waco and yelled a warning an instant too late as Tad lunged forward and crashed his fist into the side of Waco’s jaw. Waco went sideways and hit the hotel’s wall. Even as he struck the wall, Waco had his right hand gun in his hand. In almost the same move, as Tad sprang forward once more, the gun went back into leather. Waco could not see Dusty wanting any part of a deputy or a friend who shot down a drunken young cowhand without a whole heap better reason than Tad presented at the moment.

  On the way north Mark had taught Waco some of the basic fist-fighting techniques, not as much as the youngster would eventually know, but sufficient for the present situation. Waco side-stepped Tad’s rush, avoiding the cowhand’s blow and ripped his left fist into Tad’s unprotected belly. Taken by surprise, Tad folded over but his forward impetus carried him on so his head struck the wall.

  Beck moved in as Tad collapsed to the ground. A bellyful of whisky might give a man the desire to fight, but it sure as hell did not improve his ability or technique. Ducking under Beck’s wild blow, Waco came up, ripping home an uppercut that lifted the cowhand on to his toes and draped him flat on his back.

  Feet thudded and two shapes came into the mouth of the alley.

  ‘Hold it right there!’ Dusty’s voice barked.

  Attracted by the sound of the fight, while making their rounds, Dusty and Derringer had come to investigate.

  Shaking his right hand to restore the feeling robbed by its collision with Beck’s jaw, Waco turned to speak with his friends.

  ‘It’s all right, Dusty,’ he said.

  ‘What happened?’ Dusty asked.

  ‘Boys got a mite festive—with good cause,’ the youngster growled; and even in the dark Babsy could tell he did not eye her with pleasure or favor.

  ‘Do you want for us to take them in?’

  ‘No, Dusty. Just make sure they’re not hurt too bad and tell them I’m sorry,’ Waco replied, then caught Babsy by the wrist. ‘Come on, you.’

  Not until they had passed around the rear of the hotel and stood behind the next building did Babsy try to stop herself being dragged along.

  ‘Here, lay off!’ she squawked. ‘You’re hurting—’ Swinging the girl to face him, Waco scowled down at her. They stood behind a store and a number of packing cases of various sizes had been stacked against the wall.

  ‘You little fool!’ he growled. ‘Those two kids are fresh off the trail. For over a month they’ve not seen a gal. Then you have to come along, making eyes at them and getting the wrong ideas going in their heads. I damned near killed one of them back there. And for what, because you wanted to rile me.’

  ‘You ne—Oh, Waco! I wish I’d never listened when the other girls told me to keep you waiting and come down late.’

  ‘You came out late?’

  ‘I—I’d only just come when you arrived.’

  A sudden fury rose inside Waco, reaction to his having so nearly come to killing a man—and with so little cause. He might have forgiven Babsy for taking on at being kept waiting; but to find that she had not been kept waiting at all—While he had a damned good reason for coming late, the same could not be said of her and she took on like she was standing out front of the Fair Lady for the full half hour.

  ‘Here, what’re you looking at me like that for?’ Babsy asked as he gripped her wrist and sat down on one of the packing cases. ‘What’s the gam—Oh no! Waco, you wouldn’t—Eeeyow!’

  With a jerk, Waco brought the little girl belly down across his knee. He could see that the bustle would impede his actions, so hauled up her frock’s skirt and shoved the figure-improver out of the way, exposing the short-legged black drawers, two strips of white thigh streaked with black suspender straps, and black stockinged legs. It made a pretty sight if Waco had felt like admiring the view. Instead of admiring, he ignored it. The hard palm of his hand rose and fell in a rhythmic tattoo on the appropriate part of Babsy’s anatomy and to the accompaniment of her squeals of pain. Finally he set her down on her feet and rose.

  ‘Goodnight,’ he said.

  Sniffing down her tears, rubbing her rump and adjusting her clothes, Babsy stared after the departing youngster. Then she took a step forward, stumbled and gave a little wail.

  ‘Oooh! My ankle. Waco, I hurt my ankle!’

  Coming back, Waco caught the girl and supported her. ‘How bad is it?’

  ‘Oooer! I don’t think I can walk on it Can you help me back home?’

  Scooping the girl into his arms, he carried her behind the houses to the rear of the Fair Lady Saloon. Babsy took her key to the rear door from her vanity bag, forgetting that she had lost her parasol when the cowhands took her into the alley. Still cradled in Waco’s arms, she opened the door and then curled her arms around his neck again, snuggling her face against his shoulder. After locking the door on the inside, she let Waco carry her up to and into her room. Reaching over his shoulder, she closed and bolted the door after them.

  Ten minutes later a female Cockney voice might have been heard to say, ‘Coo-er! You haven’t half got a lot of hair on your chest.’

  And a male Texas voice answered, ‘You haven’t any on yours.’

  Another part of Waco’s education was being completed.

  Nine – A Rival for Miss Woods

  ‘Hey, Dusty!’ Waco greeted as he walked into the main office at eleven o’clock on Saturday morning. ‘The new folks at that saloon down Main Street have arrived, from the look of it.’

  ‘Have, huh?’ Dusty answered, looking up from where he sat writing out the desk log. ‘You’re late getting in.’

  ‘Was a mite late getting up this morning,’ the youngster replied. ‘Where’re the others?’


  ‘Mark and Lon’re making the first rounds of the day, Frank’s seeing off the two tinhorns we brought in yesterday.’

  ‘What happened to them in court?’

  ‘Fined two hundred and fifty dollars each, which same left them with about enough to pay their stage coach fare to Newton. I’ll say one thing for the judge, he sure doesn’t waste any time. They go in and are fined almost in the same breath, and he makes the fines just the right amount, too.’

  This did not surprise Waco for he knew that Dusty and the judge met on the first day before court, arranging a schedule of fines for the various minor offenders brought up each morning.

  ‘Have fun on the buggy ride?’ Dusty inquired.

  ‘Softest buggy I ever did ride,’ Waco told him. ‘How’s about those two cowhands I had the rim in with over Babsy last night?’

  ‘We brought ’em ’round and they apologized to you and Babsy in your absence, then went to collect their horses and head out to their outfit’s camp. Didn’t I hear somebody getting spanked last night?’

  ‘When?’ asked Waco innocently.

  ‘Right after you hauled Babsy out of sight; and before you say “Where?” it was behind the store next to the hotel.’

  ‘Now who’d go spanking a lady? Say, let’s go look over these new folks. Tolerable fine outfit they’ve come in with, four wagons of it.’

  Laying aside the desk’s pen, Dusty crossed the room and took his hat from the peg in passing. With Waco at his side, he strolled along the street towards the building where four wagons stood in line. There were several empty buildings of various types along Main Street, but each day the number grew smaller as people flocked in to the prosperous and busy trail end town. It appeared that there would be another saloon competing for trade; and from the way men and women hurried back and forward, carrying tables, chairs and other equipment, the new owner intended to commence the competition as soon as possible.

  Dusty recognized the big, buxom blonde woman who stood on the sidewalk and directed operations. Clearly the recognition was mutual for she smiled and came forward, holding out her right hand.

  ‘Howdy, Cap’n Fog,’ she greeted. ‘I heard tell you’d been made marshal down here. Gilgore’s the name, they call me Buffalo Kate.’

  ‘Right pleased to meet you, ma’am,’ Dusty replied, taking the woman’s hand. ‘Thanks for your warning that day back to Brownton.’

  ‘Think nothing of it. You’d the whip-hand of that bunch but I didn’t know if you’d recognized Fagan and took him for an honest lawman. I guess what you’d do when you left town, even before I saw Waldo Burkman and the other cattle-buyers pulling out. Anyways, Grief, the mayor up to Brownton, had been after me to cut him in as a non-paying profit-drawing partner. So I took up an offer Frenchie Lefarge made me for my place. Sold out to him afore he realized Mulrooney was getting all the trade. Set my aim down here, bought this place and here I am.’

  At that moment Freddie came from the Fair Lady and walked along the street then crossed over and came towards Buffalo Kate’s wagon. Freddie wore her town clothes and felt dog-tired for the previous nights had been hectic with late hours. The noise of Kate’s party arriving had disturbed Freddie’s sleep and on rising, the lady mayor of Mulrooney decided she might as well go over to meet the new arrivals. If the newcomers needed help in settling down, Freddie hoped to be able to supply it. She also hoped that she might be able to bring up the subject of how she expected Mulrooney trades people to act.

  ‘Hello,’ she greeted. ‘Good morning, Dusty.’

  ‘Morning, Freddie,’ Dusty replied. ‘This’s Miss Gilgore, Miss Gilgore, meet Miss Woods.’

  ‘Hi there, girlie,’ Kate said. ‘Come over to size us up and find out how much trade we’ll take away from you?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ Freddie answered a trifle coldly for she had not liked the other woman’s tone.

  Buffalo Kate had some considerable experience in running a saloon in a western town. Every instinct she possessed warned her that the young woman before her could be a dangerous rival in a business sense. She also figured out that Freddie was not merely an ordinary saloon girl. Nor had the friendly way Freddie greeted Dusty passed unnoticed. Most likely that prissy-talking limey dude came over to impress her rival saloonkeeper with the fact that she was on first-name terms with the town marshal. So Kate aimed to show that she did not let other folk’s friends worry her.

  ‘Say,’ she said, waving a hand towards the Fair Lady. ‘Do you work at that trap over there?’

  ‘I happen to own the Fair Lady,’ Freddie answered.

  ‘Land-sakes,’ Kate gasped in well-simulated surprise. ‘What next?’

  ‘And what might that mean?’ asked Freddie.

  ‘I’ve heard of dudes buying up ranches, but never of one trying to run a saloon.’

  ‘There are some people who say I do pretty well at it,’ Freddie stated.

  ‘Sure,’ Kate replied, ‘but up to now you’ve had no competition.’

  ‘Have I any now?’ Freddie asked. ‘I heard that somebody had bought this place to run as a saloon, but I—oh, you mean this ju—stuff you’re taking in is to be used as fixtures for a saloon?’

  Watching the two women, Dusty could almost see the sparks flying. He gave a glance at Waco and saw the youngster grinning. Maybe it struck Waco as being amusing but Dusty figured he could get along very well without two feuding saloonkeepers—and them a pair of real nice, friendly women unless roused.

  If Freddie had been less tired she might have avoided any stirring of trouble with Buffalo Kate. Maybe—only maybe. Freddie came from a fighting stock; of a breed which won their fortune in the first place with their courage and swords and enlarged it while helping build Britain into the great country it was at that time. So Freddie would not back down from any challenge; and she knew that the gauntlet had been thrown down between them.

  ‘By the way, Miss Gilgore,’ Freddie went on after a brittle silence of almost a minute. ‘I happen to be mayor of Mulrooney and we have certain ordinances designed to keep out the riff-raff and unruly elements. One of the ordinances allows the marshal to inspect all gambling equipment any time he wishes to.’

  ‘Has he inspected your games yet?’ Kate countered.

  A flush crept over Freddie’s cheeks as she realized that Dusty had not yet inspected her gambling games. So much happened on the previous afternoon after the appointment of Frank Derringer as gambling consultant that Dusty did not find time to check the Fair Lady’s games. Nor, if it came to a point, did he see the need to do so in any great hurry as he knew Freddie ran everything fair and above board.

  ‘My games are open to inspection as we’re erecting them, Cap’n Fog,’ Kate said, after allowing a pause for Freddie to make some excuse. ‘Of course I realize that wouldn’t apply to everybody.’

  ‘You’ll come on over and inspect my games right now, Du—Captain Fog!’ Freddie snorted. ‘And ask this person to send one of her house gamblers along to help you. When dealing with the lower elements one has to prove everything to their limited satisfaction.’

  Now it appeared to be Kate’s turn to redden up in anger. A cold glint came to Kate’s eyes and she studied Freddie. Not even the loose sleeved white blouse and doeskin divided skirt could hide the strength and firm-fleshed power of Freddie’s body from Kate and the blonde found, not entirely to her surprise, that she did not face a milk-soft dude but a woman as tough and capable as herself. Kate realized that they had taken the matter as far as they could without reaching a point where neither could back out of a physical brawl. Knowing something of western towns, Kate had more sense than to start brawling with a business rival in the open street on the day of her arrival. There only remained one thing—yet probably the most difficult thing of all, to get out of the situation without loss of face or appearing to back down.

  ‘Ladies,’ Dusty said, realizing how far the affair had gone and offering the women a way out. ‘I’ll send Waco to relieve Frank Derringer and
then we’ll go over to the Fair Lady while Miss Gilgore—’

  ‘Make it Kate, cap’n, I’ll be around here for a fair time,’ the blonde interrupted, throwing a defiant glance at Freddie.

  ‘While Kate gets her place set up,’ Dusty put in hurriedly. ‘Loan me one of your house dealers, Kate, to go over the Fair Lady with Derringer.’

  ‘Shuckens, cap’n, I trust you.’

  ‘I insist you send one!’ Freddie snapped.

  ‘Yeah!’ bristled Kate. ‘And who—’

  ‘Likely Miss Kate can’t spare anybody, her crowd all working so hard,’ Waco remarked, doing the right thing instinctively.

  His words offered both Freddie and Kate a face-saver and neither looked entirely unhappy about it.

  ‘Say, Freddie,’ Dusty put in, mentally blessing Waco for the words. ‘I asked the trail bosses to be at the jail at noon. Can you go put up the idea we discussed last night to them while I do my work?’

  Slowly Freddie unclenched her tight-closed right hand. She gave a sniff and nodded her agreement. At last she had been given a chance to withdraw without it appearing that the fat, over-stuffed blonde ran her off. Her sense of responsibility alone would have made her attend to a civic duty anyway; which was what Dusty counted on when he made the suggestion.

  ‘What’s all that about?’ Kate asked, watching Freddie walk away.

  The saloons aren’t allowed to open on Sunday and the sale of liquor is banned for the day. So we figured to give the cowhands a chance to show off a mite to the town folks and take their minds off not being able to drink and whoop things up in town.’

  ‘Your idea?’

  ‘Part mine, part Freddie’s,’ Dusty admitted.

  ‘Who is she?’

  ‘Her name’s Freddie Woods, she helped found the town and folks elected her mayor. She’s a real nice gal.’

  ‘Yeah?’ sniffed Kate. ‘Well, she gets no-place faster than that with me.’

  ‘Why?’ Dusty asked.

  ‘Huh?’ replied Kate, looking confused. ‘I—she—excuse me, cap’n. I’ve gotta hurry my folks on happen I hope to open tonight.’