by J. T. Edson
“Where’s the boss, Phyl?” Jacobs asked, giving Calamity another long, searching look then turning to the buxom redhead.
“Up to her office. You want to see her about something important?”
“She’ll think so.”
Phyl studied the man for a long moment. Knowing that Ella was preparing to ride out and visit Stocker, Phyl did not wish to disturb her boss. However, Phyl knew that Jacobs often brought news of importance and so decided to take him upstairs.
“Let’s go see her then,” Phyl said. “Only she’ll for sure blister your hide if it’s not important.”
Watching Phyl and Jacobs make for the stairs, Calamity decided she must try to learn what brought the pedlar to town. A couple of the cowhands drifted over and asked Calamity and Mousey to join them. Rising, Calamity told Mousey to go ahead and she would sit in once she had been upstairs to collect a handkerchief.
By the time Calamity reached the head of the stairs she found that Phyl and the pedlar were just entering Ella’s room. Calamity waited until the door closed, then walked over and halted by it. Glancing along the passage, she could see no sign of life. However, she wished she knew where Maisie might be as the big brunette had not been in the bar room. Calamity did not wish to be caught eavesdropping at Ella’s door, especially by Maisie for the brunette disliked her due to her friendship with Phyl. Seeing no sign of Maisie or any of the other girls, Calamity placed her ear close to the door and listened to the muffled, but audible conversation inside. She only heard a few words before deciding it had been a good idea to come up and take a chance to discover Jacobs’s business.
In the room Ella Watson sat behind the table and looked at Jacobs with cold, speculative eyes. For his part, Jacobs stared back with frank interest. On his arrival, Ella had been about to change into the clothes she wore when riding the range on visits to the stolen stock’s hiding place. At such a time Ella wore men’s clothing with only a pair of drawers beneath the shirt, levis, boots and jacket out of sight and pulled on her robe. While this covered her naked torso, it gave more than a hint of her state of undress underneath.
“This’s private, Miss Ella,” Jacobs said, glancing at Phyl.
“Likely,” the saloonkeeper replied. “Spit it out, Jake, and put your eyes back in, it won’t do you any good.”
“I got something to tell you,” the pedlar told her, jerking his eyes away from the valley between her breasts.
“I didn’t think you’d just dropped in to pass the time of day.”
“Just come up from Austin way,” Jacobs went on, not put out by her apparent lack of interest.
“So?” asked Ella calmly, although she did not feel calm inside. The nearest company of Texas Rangers had their base in Austin as she well knew.
“So I heard something as might interest the right folks up here.”
“I’m busy and tired, Jake. Come to the point, or let’s miss you?”
“I’m a poor man, Miss Ella,” the pedlar whined. “Not like these cow thieves up this ways.”
“Let’s have it!” Ella spat out, opening the table drawer and taking out a five-dollar bill. “Damned if I know why I’m bothering, but if you’ve something interesting you can have the five.”
“I hear tell Cap’n Murat’s sent a feller up here to bust the cow thieves.”
“Why should that interest me?” Ella asked, trying to keep her voice normal although her throat felt dry and her body cold.
“No reason—’Cepting that if this feller does it, you’ll lose a fair few good customers.”
“Hey——!” Phyl began.
“I see,” Ella interrupted.
Only with an effort could she hold her voice even and Phyl’s obvious agitation drew a warning scowl from Ella. Annoyance at the red-head’s reactions stiffened Ella and enabled her to hide her true feelings. Clearly the pedlar knew something. In some way he must have learned that she ran the cow-stealing organization. Yet he could not know, unless—at that moment Ella remembered a remark passed a few days before, about her bartender’s friendship with Jacobs. Izzy must have sold her out, either accidentally or deliberately. Well, that matter could wait until later. More important right now was to discover the identity of the man sent by Captain Murat. Ella did not underestimate the Texas Rangers. The trouble with a Ranger was that he wore no uniform and kept his badge concealed. There had been one new arrival in the area who claimed to have come from down Austin way, she recalled.
“All right,” she said. “Supposing I give a damn for my customers! Who is this Ranger?”
“Like I said, ma’am——” Jacobs started to say.
“I know,” Ella cut in, “you’re a poor man. Here’s twenty dollars. Who is he, Jake?”
There she had the pedlar, but he did not intend to mention the point. While Jacobs had gathered a vague rumor that a Ranger left town headed for Caspar County, he could not learn which member of Company “G” was assigned to the task. However, Jacobs could put two and two together so as to come up with a reasonable answer.
“One of them fellers brought in Choya’s bunch of Comancheros a few days back. Only he’s not in town any more, left near on as soon as he come in. I figure he’s the one.”
“And his name?” asked Ella.
“Danny Fog. He’s Dusty Fog’s kid brother.”
This time Ella could not hold down her startled gasp. Danny Fog—Danny Forgrave—it must be true. Ed Wren claimed that Forgrave reminded him of the Rio Hondo gun wizard. So he would if he was Dusty Fog’s younger brother.
“What does he look like?” she snapped.
“Tall, blond, youngish, not bad looking. Rode a big sabino stallion last time I saw him.”
“Forgrave!” Ella and Phyl said at the same moment.
Even as they spoke the door of the room flew open.
Calamity had just figured that she must find some way of warning Danny of his danger when she found she had troubles of her own. So interested in the conversation had she been, that she forgot to stay alert. Maisie stepped from her room, took in the sight and crept stealthily along the passage toward the listening Calamity. Instead of hearing the gentle pad of bare feet, Calamity missed the sound. The first knowledge she had of Maisie’s presence being when one hand gripped the scruff of her neck and another jerked her arm up behind her back.
Dropping the hand from Calamity’s neck, Maisie twisted on Ella’s door handle and pushed open the door. Before Calamity could make a move to prevent it, she was shoved into the room.
“What’s all this, Maisie?” Ella asked.
“I just caught her listening at the door, boss.”
Pain in her trapped arm, and a natural aversion to being pushed around, caused Calamity to take action. Lifting her foot, she stamped the heel down hard on Maisie’s foot. The big brunette let out a screech of pain and released Calamity’s arm, then started to hop on her other leg, clutching at the injured toes. Before Calamity could turn and take the matter further, Phyl leapt forward and pushed her against the wall. Even as Calamity tensed to throw herself into the attack, Ella rose, jerking open the table’s drawer and bringing out the Remington Double Derringer which took Gooch’s life.
“Now just hold it right there!” the saloonkeeper ordered. “Phyl, take her gun. Keep back, Maisie.”
The latter warning came as the brunette prepared to hurl herself at Calamity and take reprisals for the vicious stamp on her foot. Knowing her boss’s temper, Maisie halted and watched, scowling and muttering to herself, as Calamity stood still and allowed Phyl to pull up her skirt and remove the Derringer from its garter holster.
“She’s a liar, boss!” Calamity yelped, getting her defense in before the attack began. “I’d only just come up here.”
“She was listening, boss!” Maisie screeched.
“All right! Shut it, both of you!” Ella spat out. Her fingers drummed on the table top, then she frowned as she remembered that Calamity came to town from Austin. “How many Rangers did Murat send, Jak
e?”
“One. That Danny Fog like I told you,” the man replied, staring at Calamity once more. “Say, I seen that gal afore somewheres.”
“In the Golden Slipper at Austin, you skinny goat!” Calamity snapped. “You come up here to tell the boss how I got throwed out of town. I knew you’d got me marked down from the minute you come into the bar downstairs.”
“Hell, you saw the way he looked at me right from when he come in, Phyl,” Calamity said, turning to the red-head.
“He sure did, boss,” Phyl agreed and glared at Maisie as the girl gave a disbelieving sniff.
“How about it, Jake?” Ella inquired.
“Sure I looked at her. Thought I’d seen her around someplace. Only I don’t reckon it was in Austin.”
“Where’d it be?” asked Maisie, going back to rubbing her aching foot.
“Sure it was Austin, you danged fool!” howled Calamity. “You come here to tell the boss that I’d been run out of town. I’ve heard about you.”
“What’ve you heard, Marty?” purred Ella, watching the Jewish pedlar’s face rather than studying Calamity’s expression.
“That he’d sell his own mother if he thought the price was right,” Calamity replied. “Hell, I saw him talking to Cap’n Murat down a back street in Austin a couple of days before——”
“That’s a damned lie!” Jacobs screeched, and no other word could describe the sound.
“Just stay right where you are, Jake!” Ella ordered, swinging the Derringer in the pedlar’s direction.
“Hell, Miss Ella,” whined the pedlar nervously. “Murat only stopped me to ask about a gun I’d tried to get for him.”
The pedlar did not make his words sound very convincing and Ella’s suspicions deepened. If “Marty” told the truth, Jacobs would just have reached Austin after his visit to Caspar City. So he might have been selling information which brought Danny Fog to Caspar.
“All right, Jake,” Ella said. “I believe you. You’d better get going and let me talk with Marty here.”
Turning, Jacobs hurried from the room. His one desire was to collect his wagon and put as many miles as possible between himself and Caspar City, for Ella’s words had not fooled him at all.
“You letting him go, boss?” Maisie asked after Jacobs left.
“Go get Wren,” replied Ella, which answered the question after a fashion. When Maisie left the room, Ella turned her eyes to Calamity. “I’m not sure about you, Marty. Hold her until I get back, Phyl.”
“Sure, boss,” Phyl replied. “Come on, Marty, we’ll wait in my room.”
“Wait,” Ella ordered, rising and removing her robe. “You saw a lot of Danny Forgrave, Marty. Do you think he might be a Ranger?”
Calamity’s first instinct was to scoff at the idea, then she decided not to appear certain. She figured Danny could take care of himself, and had her own escape to think about.
“Seemed a mite slicker than most cowhands,” she admitted. “Only I thought he was just more crooked than most.”
Which just about coincided with Ella’s judgment of Danny’s character. The saloonkeeper drew on the man’s shirt, taken from its hiding place and slipped into a pair of levis pants. Watching Ella, Calamity remembered what Danny told her about Gooch’s death. Calamity studied the bare flesh under the shirt as Ella fastened its buttons and formed her own conclusions.
A knock sounded on the door as Ella finished buttoning the levis. She called “Come in!” looking at Phyl and Calamity as Wren entered followed by Maisie. “Take Marty to your room, Phyl,” Ella went on.
“I’ll go with her,” Maisie growled.
Anger etched a scowl on Phyl’s face, but she did not argue. Phyl and Maisie escorted Calamity to their room, leaving Ella to give orders to the cold-eyed hired killer.
Although she hid the fact, Calamity felt worried. Danny Fog’s life hung in the balance and somehow she must try to escape then warn him that his secret had been sold out. Yet before she could do anything, Calamity must escape from the two buxom, powerful boss-girls. For once in her life Calamity knew fighting was not the answer. She might be able to take one or the other girl, but not both at once; and even against one of them, skilled bar room brawlers that they were, she would be in no condition to make a hard ride straight after the fight.
The boss-girls shared a room slightly bigger, but not much better equipped than the type used by the ordinary female workers. On entering, Maisie leaned her back against the door and stood scowling at Calamity. None of them spoke for almost ten minutes. Calamity sat on the edge of Phyl’s bed and the redheaded boss-girl crossed the room to look out of the window.
“Girlie,” Maisie finally said, “I sure as hell hope you don’t come up with the right answers.”
“Why?” asked Calamity. “So it’ll put Phyl in bad with the boss.”
Turning from the window, after seeing Wren and Ella leave by the side door, Phyl scowled across the room at Maisie. Suspicion glowed in the red-head’s eyes and she said:
“You may have something there, Marty.”
“Sure I have, Phyl,” Calamity answered, taking her chance with both hands. “You’ve seen how she’s always trying to put you in the wrong.”
“I don’t reckon I’m going to wait until the boss gets back!” Maisie hissed and thrust herself away from the wall.
Before Maisie could reach Calamity, Phyl blocked her path. “You’ll leave her be, fatso. She’s——”
Drawing back her arm, Maisie swung it, hand knotted into a fist, against the side of Phyl’s cheek. The blow landed hard, sending the buxom redhead staggering. Maisie knew she had started something she must finish with Phyl before attempting to handle Calamity. So the brunette hurled herself at Phyl and walked into a punch between the eyes which stopped her in her tracks. The long pent-up hatred burst like a wrecked dam wall and the two buxom women tore into each other with flying fists, grabbing fingers, kicking feet, oblivious of everything except for their dislike of the other and desire to injure her as badly as possible.
While Calamity would have liked to stay through the fight and enjoy what looked like being a hell of a brawl, she knew time would not permit her to do so. Letting the two women become fully engrossed in their hair-yanking brawl, Calamity headed for the door and left the room. She ran along the passage and into her own quarters, closing its door behind her. Even while running along the passage, Calamity had been stripping off the cheap jewellery. In the room, she jerked off her dress and kicked aside her shoes. Opening the cupboard door, Calamity lifted out the grip in which she brought her spare saloon-girl clothing.
Before Calamity left Austin, a saddler worked all night to fit a false bottom into the grip. Reaching into the apparently empty grip, Calamity pulled up the cover of the false bottom and lifted out her normal clothing. The loss of her Derringer did not worry her, for her gunbelt, Navy Colt and bull whip all lay in the hidden cavity and Calamity had managed to keep the gun clean even while working in the saloon.
Outside Calamity’s room voices sounded. She could guess what had happened. Hearing the sounds of the fight between Phyl and Maisie, the other girls were coming up to investigate. Moving fast, Calamity drew on her shirt, then pulled the levis pants on over her stockings. Her kepi and moccasins came next, then she slung on the gunbelt and when she thrust the bull whip into her waistband, she felt at ease for the first time since accepting this chore.
Most of the girls stood in the passage outside Phyl and Maisie’s room and from the sounds beyond the door there had been little easing of the fight. One of the chattering, excited girls happened to glance in Calamity’s direction, then gave a yell which brought every eye to the transformed redhead. None of the girls made a move, but Dora scowled and opened her mouth.
“The name’s Calamity Jane, gals,” Calamity announced before Dora could say a word. “I’m working with the Rangers to bust up this cow stealing and I’ve no fuss with any of you.”
Most of the girls had nothing to lose by
the wrecking of the cow stealing organization and anyway that bull whip looked a damned sight too dangerous for them to start arguing. However, Dora still hated Calamity for the humiliation handed out on the red-head’s arrival. Now she saw a chance to take her revenge.
“Get he——!” she began.
Once more Dora was interrupted. Mousey did not know for sure what was happening, or why her friend Marty dressed in men’s clothes and claimed to be Calamity Jane. All the little blonde knew was that she now had a good chance to tangle with Dora and put Calamity’s self-defense lessons into use. Catching Dora by the arm, Mousey turned her and brought across a punch which staggered the bigger blonde back across the passage.
“Why you——” Dora hissed.
Down went Mousey’s head and she charged, ramming Dora full in the middle of the body. In her childhood, Mousey lived hard and still had strong little muscles. These, backed by the lessons Calamity gave her, enabled her to tangle with Dora and make the bigger girl believe a bobcat had jumped her.
“Sic her, Mousey!” Calamity whooped. “And use your fists like I taught you.”
The other girls let Calamity depart unhindered. Unlike Mousey, Dora had never been popular, so the girls saw no reason to halt what shaped up to be a good fight; especially as Mousey appeared to be getting the best of it.
Wally Stirton, boss of the Rafter O, his men and the other customers gathered at the foot of the stairs, listening to the screeches, yells and other sounds of female brawling which drifted down. Then the men stared as Calamity came into sight and ran down the stairs toward them.
“What the hell?” Stirton growled. “Hey Marty——”
“Get your boys on their hosses and lend me a mount, Wally,” Calamity interrupted. “We’ve a chance to bust up the cow stealing.”
Give him his due, Stirton threw off his surprise and got moving without wasting time or asking fool questions. He and his men headed for the door on Calamity’s heels and the girl told him her true identity, also of Danny’s danger.