Running Irons

by J. T. Edson

  Danny glanced at the men. Both appeared to be tall, Stocker slim and with a whisker-stubbled face, Schatz heavier built, with close-cropped hair and a scarred face that looked tough and mean. Each man wore a gun in a contoured holster and dressed a little more prosperously than might be expected for the boss and sole hand of a run-down ranch in a most unsuitable area. From the little Danny had seen of the Rock Pile, it would prove mighty useless for profitable cattle-raising and be unlikely to provide more than a bare living for its owner. Of course, Stocker could have a side-interest such as hiding wanted outlaws to account for his wealth. Danny decided a visit to the Stocker spread might be worthwhile before his identity as a Ranger became known.

  Even as Danny made his decision, he saw Mousey and another girl enter the room. Only when he took a second and longer look did Danny recognize Calamity and he decided his fears that she might have been recognized were groundless. Following the direction of Danny’s gaze, Tommy grinned broadly.

  “Hey, Mousey’s done got company. Look’s a right nice gal, too.”

  “Sure does,” Danny agreed.

  However, before the girls could arrive at the two cowhands’ table, they had to pass where Stocker and Schatz sat. After eyeing the girls up and down, Schatz shot out a hand and caught Mousey by the arm.

  “Hi, there, Mousey, gal,” he greeted in a harsh, guttural voice. “Sit down and have a drink.”

  “I’ve already got one ordered,” Mousey replied, trying to pull her hand free.

  “What, beer with some fool kid?” growled Schatz. “You can do better than that, little gal.”

  “You let me go!” Mousey yelped.

  Tommy’s chair went flying backward as he came to his feet and shot across the room. At the bar Ella caught questioning glances from her two bouncers and Ed Wren but shook her head. Things were a mite slow and Ella knew that nothing livened up a Saturday evening better than a fight, provided it did not get out of hand and she doubted if one between the burly Schatz and young Tommy would go too far.

  “Get your cotton-picking hands offen her, Schatz!” Tommy yelled as he rushed forward.

  While Tommy did not lack guts, he showed a considerable amount of poor judgment in his method of attack. Schatz thrust himself to his feet, still holding Mousey with his left hand. Even before Tommy could land a blow, the burly man’s big fist shot out. Running in added force to a powerful blow and Tommy went down like a pole-axed steer.

  “Tommy!” Mousey screeched and landed a kick on Schatz’s shin with enough force to make him howl and release her. “Tommy!” she repeated and dropped to her knees at the youngster’s side.

  “Why you little whore!” Schatz snarled and started to move forward. “I’ll——!”

  “Get your lousy, buffalo-mange stinking, gut-turning self away from her, lard-guts!” Calamity spat out. Lacking her whip, she reached for the neck of the nearest bottle as a means of defense.

  Before Calamity could lay hands on the weapon, Schatz turned and caught her by the arm. “I likes a gal with spunk,” he told her.

  “You like licking kids, too,” a cold voice cut in.

  Slowly Schatz turned, pulling Calamity around after him. In that he might have counted himself lucky, for Calamity had just been preparing to drive up her knee into his lower regions hard enough to chill down his milk for a spell. However, she refrained as she saw the speaker and hoped that Danny had learned fighting in the same school as his elder brother; because if he had, mister, that unwashed, square-headed, bristle-haired, no-account hard-case was sure as hell due for a real Texas-size shock.

  “My, the cowhands are sure snuffy tonight,” said Schatz and shoved Calamity away from him, then launched a blow straight at Danny’s head.

  Only this time he struck at a different proposition to his previous challenger. Danny might not be much older than Tommy, but bore the advantage of training at the hands of masters of the art of rough-house brawling.

  Up came Danny’s left hand, but he did not clench his fist. With the open palm he slapped Schatz’s driving-out right arm in a snappy motion which deflected it away from him. Instantly Danny ducked under the deflected punch and took a short step forward with his left foot so as to halt slightly behind Schatz’s back. At the same time Danny brought up his right arm, across Schatz’s body to grip the burly man’s shirt at the right shoulder. Pushing hard on to the shoulder with his hand, Danny hooked his right leg behind Schatz’s left calf and thrust with it. The moves took Schatz by surprise. He gave a startled yell as his feet left the floor and he went over to land on his back.

  Calamity gave a sigh of relief. It appeared that Danny had learned fighting at the same source as did his illustrious elder brother. From the expression on Schatz’s face as he came up from the floor, Calamity figured Danny was likely to need all the learning he could lay hands on.

  Watching Danny’s fists come up, Schatz charged at the blond Ranger with big hands raised to grab. Only he fell into the trap Danny laid for him. Danny did not figure to try using his fists against the bigger man—not until after setting Schatz up for them.

  Suddenly and unexpectedly Danny raised his left leg and drove it out to land a stamping kick on the other’s kneecap, bringing Schatz’s rush to a sudden halt. Even as agony knifed through Schatz and he bent to clutch at the injured knee, Danny threw a right-hand punch. It landed hard and with precision on the side of Schatz’s jaw and the big man crashed to the floor again. Spitting out curses and blood, Schatz jerked the Colt from his holster but did not get a chance to use it. Danny leapt forward and stamped down with his left foot. A cowhand’s boots carried high heels designed to spoke into the ground and hold firm while roping cattle or horses on foot. Human flesh being less hard, it did not stand up well to the impact of a boot heel smashing down upon it. Schatz let out a screech of pain, lost his hold on the Colt and jerked up into a sitting position. Like a flash, Danny kicked up with his other leg. The boot toe caught Schatz under the jaw, snapping back his head and slamming him down again. This time he did not look like he would be getting up to make more trouble.

  “Hold it, Stocker!” a voice boomed.

  Hearing the order, and the accompanying click as a gun came to full cock, Stocker froze. He had only half rose and his hand still gripped the butt of his gun, but a glance at the main doors of the saloon told him the futility of going further. Holding his Remington ready for use, Jerome stood just inside the doors and Lyle leaned a shoulder against the door jamb at his boss’s side.

  “Who cut you in, Jerome?” Stocker growled.

  “Danny there rides for me,” answered Jerome. “What happened?”

  “I’d say that Schatz just got round to picking the wrong feller,” Lyle remarked calmly, looking to where Danny stood over the burly hard-case.

  Ella Watson knew better than allow such a situation to develop too far. So she thrust herself from the bar and walked across the room, taking care not to come into the line of fire.

  “All right, boys,” she said. “The fun’s over.” Her eyes went to Stocker and she went on, “I’ve told you before about Schatz abusing the boys.”

  “Looks like he picked on one as didn’t take to being abused,” Lyle drawled and walked to where Mousey helped Tommy to rise. “You all right, boy?”

  “Just about,” Tommy answered and felt his jaw. “Where’s he at?”

  “Sleeping. Got his-self all tuckered out,” grinned the foreman.

  Seeing that nothing more of interest would come from the situation, the occupants of the room resumed their interrupted pleasures. Jerome watched Ella’s bouncers haul Schatz from the room, then he turned to Ella and asked what started the fuss.

  “It wasn’t Danny here’s fault,” she replied, “Schatz started to rough-handle Mousey and Tommy, then Danny cut in. That boy’s some fighter. Dirty, but good.”

  “Always reckoned it’s better to fight dirty and win, than fair and get all licked, ma’am,” Danny put in and turned to Calamity. “Say, how’s ab
out taking a drink with me, Red?”

  “Right with you and the name’s Marty, not Red,” she replied.

  Watching the two walk away, Ella decided that an efficient young man like Danny Forgrave ought to be a valuable asset to her organization. Of late there had been a considerable amount of independence building at Stocker’s end and she guessed that the rancher might be figuring he could run the business without her aid. Wren could take Stocker, but lacked the experience in cattle matters to handle the holding of the stolen stock. Given the right kind of bait, say plenty of money, that blond Texas cowhand might make an ideal replacement should Stocker go too far.

  For a time Calamity and Danny celebrated in typical cowhand-saloon-girl style, helped by Mousey and Tommy. They had a few drinks, tried the gambling games with Tommy winning a few dollars, danced and generally enjoyed themselves. Ella watched it all, noting the way “Marty” persuaded Danny to spend more and more on her. The girl had the right idea and it seemed that Danny was struck on her. This showed in the way he blocked any other customer’s request that the girl danced or joined him. So Ella watched and waited for a chance to speak with her latest employee away from the crowd.

  Ella’s chance came when Calamity and Mousey left the room to go out back. On their return, the girls found their boss waiting in the rear passage behind the bar room. Telling Mousey to go on in, Ella kept Calamity with her.

  “You’re handling that cowhand real well, Marty,” she said as Mousey went through the door to the bar room.

  “Shucks, that’s no problem. He reckons I’m the only gal in the world and wants to prove it.”

  “Keep him going. I want him broke, but eager to come back for more.”

  “Sure, boss. Say, he wants to go to the cabin with me for the night.”

  “Take him up on it and sting him for ten bucks. If you can get any more than that off him, it’s yours.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Calamity said eagerly and turned to go.

  Shooting out a hand, Ella caught Calamity’s arm and stopped her. “Don’t act stupid, Marty. No rolling him or anything like that. I want him coming back here all hot and eager for another session. Understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I understand.”

  While Mousey did not go to the cabin with the customers herself, she had a fair idea of what went on in it. She wished that Marty would not go, but made no objections when her new friend left with Danny. Sighing, the little girl looked at Tommy and wondered whether she ought to make an exception in his case, then decided against it as they could not afford the money Miss Ella insisted was paid for the loan of a room.

  “We’re going to have to play this straight, Calam,” Danny remarked as he entered the dimly-lit cabin and located the room allocated to them.

  “Reckon we are,” she agreed with a grin. “I wonder how much can be heard in the other rooms?”

  “I don’t know, but let’s hold our voices down.”

  Calamity stripped off her dress and sat on the edge of the bed to peel the stockings from her legs. There was not much room in the section allocated to them and the window had heavy drapes covering it. Danny blew out the lamp and blackness descended on the room.

  “How’s it going, Calam?” he asked, holding his voice down.

  “Fair. I don’t figure they know me or think I’m anything but what I say I am. And I know how they get the cowhands involved. Fact being, I’m supposed to be involving you right now.”

  “That figures. Young Sammy was caught like it. He was one of the pair Gooch gunned down.”

  “I know,” Calamity grunted. “Had words with his grieving sweetie, only she wasn’t grieving until after I got through with her.”

  “Know anything more?”

  “Not much. Ella’s in this real deep, likely behind it. She slips out of the saloon at nights, and sometimes in daylight, dressed in man’s clothes and goes off some place.”

  “Does huh?” said Danny.

  His interest sounded plain in his voice and Calamity tried to see him in the blackness of the room. “What’s that mean?”

  Quickly Danny explained his findings when he located the bodies of the two cowhands, then of the circumstances surrounding Gooch’s death. He mentioned the fact that the bounty hunter’s gun had been in its holster; and also about the third cow thief, the one who escaped death at Gooch’s hands.

  “What do you reckon about that?” he asked.

  “Same as you,” Calamity replied. “Gooch wouldn’t’ve gone up to any man with his gun still in leather, but he might to a woman. I could say she done good for the world if it was her who downed Gooch.”

  “Maybe,” Danny drawled. “Only don’t let that stop you finding out all you can. The sooner we nail this business shut the happier I’ll feel. Tempers are a mite high about Sammy and Pike. Comes pay day and the Forked C getting to town at the same time as the Bench J, there might be trouble. The boys are sore enough to start it. Say, do you see much of that lawyer?”

  “He comes around visiting with the boss. I don’t know how he figures in the game though. Reminds me of somebody, only I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “Looks and sounds like one of them radical Republicans who used to run with Carpetbag Davis’ bunch,” Danny remarked.

  “You hit it!” Calamity whooped.

  The next instant Danny’s hand clamped over her mouth. “Hold it down, hot head!” he growled.

  “Sorry, I forgot,” she whispered when he moved his hand. “That Soskice acts and talks like that cuss who was strangling the gals early this year in New Orleans. He was one of Henry George’s bunch, them Socialists or whatever they call themselves and Soskice carries the same brand.”

  “Then why’s he down here?” Danny mused. “They hate the guts of us Southern folks and I can’t see one of ’em coming down here to live unless he’d good reason. We bust up the best reason when we run Carpetbag Davis’ bunch of scum out.”

  “I’ll watch him, see what I can learn. Say, how do we play this lot between you and me?”

  “Just how Ella Watson wants it. I’ve been trying to make her think I’m a young hard-case with a yen for money and who isn’t too particular how he gets it.”

  “You’ve done it,” Calamity told him. “I’ve got to lead you on, get you all broke and eager for more of me. Then she’ll move in, or I miss my guess.”

  “Then that’s how we’ll play it,” drawled Danny.

  “What’re we going to do right now?” inquired Calamity, sliding into the bed.

  For a moment Danny did not reply, then he said, “Well, I have paid my ten bucks.”

  “Danged if I ever afore got paid for that,” remarked Calamity.

  Half an hour passed before either spoke again.

  “Say, Calam,” came Danny’s voice.

  “Yeah?”

  “How in hell do I mark down that ten dollars on my expenses?”

  Chapter 12 I WANT TO STEAL SOME OF YOUR CATTLE

  BY TUESDAY DANNY FIGURED HE HAD SET THINGS up to the point where Ella Watson would make him an offer. He spent the night with Calamity on Saturday and took the girl along with Mousey and Tommy on a picnic the following afternoon. Monday evening found him in town again, watched by a worried Mousey as he spent money on Calamity and the redhead urged him to extravagance. All in all, Danny gave a good impersonation of a lovesick young cowhand making a big play for a money-hungry saloon-girl.

  Ella Watson walked across the room on Tuesday evening and looked down at Danny as he sat moodily staring into a glass of beer. Knowing the signs, she came to a halt and smiled at him.

  “Hi there,” she greeted. “You look like a man with worries.”

  “Reckon I am, ma’am,” he replied. “Where-at’s Marty?”

  “She’ll be down soon. How serious are you about her?”

  “Mighty serious, ma’am. She’s a real nice gal.”

  “But expensive. A girl like Marty is used to living high on the hog, Danny.”

  “Yes’m.�
��

  “Short of money, are you?” asked Ella sympathetically.

  “Not short, ma’am. Flat busted.”

  “The trouble is that Marty likes money spent on her,” the saloonkeeper went on, glancing to where Stocker sat by the door. “That’s the way we women are. She loves you, of course, but a girl has to live.”

  “Reckon so, ma’am. Trouble being, a cowhand’s pay don’t go far.”

  “I know. Well, I’ve work to do. If you want another drink, Danny, tell Izzy to let you have what you feel like and pay me back when you’ve some money.”

  “Gee, that’s swell of you, ma’am,” Danny answered. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Just keep Marty happy is all you need do,” she smiled and walked away.

  Although Ella did not go near Stocker, Danny saw her nod to the man and then walk into her office. A few seconds later Stocker rose and slouched out of the main doors. For half an hour nothing more happened. Danny crossed to the bar and gave the bartender Ella’s message, then asked for another bottle of beer. He took his seat again, sipping the beer and idly smoking.

  The batwing doors opened and Danny saw Stocker and Soskice enter. Crossing the room, they halted at his table.

  “Mind if we join you?” Soskice asked.

  “Feel free,” Danny replied, glancing first at the lawyer then looking hard in Stocker’s direction. “But I thought——”

  “Hell, I had to stand by Dutchy,” Stocker interrupted. “He rides for me and comes cheap. Mind, I admit he’s a mean cuss when he’s likkered.”

  “Sure!” Danny grunted.

  “Liked the way you handled him, though. Have a drink to show there’s no hard feelings.”

  “Couldn’t buy you one back,” Danny warned.

  “Don’t expect it. I know having a gal keeps a young feller short of cash.”

  “It sure as hell does,” agreed Danny, wondering why the lawyer sat in on the deal and waiting to find out.

  Both men bought Danny a couple of drinks without bringing up anything more than casual conversation. So Danny decided to put out a couple of feelers and see if he could stir anything up.