by J. T. Edson
‘I dunno, that’s for sure,’ the swarthily handsome young soldier replied, speaking in a similar fashion, as he started to swagger alongside his companion towards the subject of their loudly made comments. ‘Those’re men’s clothes all right, Dutchy-boy. But, unless my memory’s going back on me, what’s inside ’em sure looks like it’s got all the right bits for a woman.’
‘Now there are two young men who aren’t showing what I would call real good sense,’ Belle remarked, being close enough to hear what the pair where saying and feeling sure the remarks had also reached the ears of the person at whom they were directed. ‘But we’re in luck, Rem. There’s a good chance we’ll be able to learn more about that man who came to meet dear Vera, “Devlin”, and Cavallier.’
Although puzzled by his companion’s utterances, the Kid was more interested in watching the soldiers to ask what she had meant.
To be fair to Dutchy and Tony, even though – as Belle had intimated to the Englishman – she and anybody else with a similar extensive knowledge of the West could have warned them such remarks were extremely ill-advised, there was some justice in the context of the statements. The person they were discussing was dressed in a far from conventional fashion.
Matching the Rebel Spy in height, Miss Martha Jane Canary was a few years younger. While her tanned, freckled, good looking face, with its sparkling blue eyes, slightly snub nose and a full Upped mouth which had grin quirks at the corners, could not compete with Belle’s beauty, she was even better endowed in the matter of physique. What was more, her attire was such as to display her magnificently contoured figure to its best advantage.
A battered U.S. cavalry képi was perched jauntily on the girl’s mop of shortish, curly red hair. The fringed buckskin shirt – its sleeves rolled up to show strong brown arms – and trousers she wore looked to have been bought a size too small and had shrunk even further from being wet. Clinging like a second skin to her torso, the swell of her full and firm bosom caused the former garment’s neck to spread open sufficiently to imply that she did not consider underclothing a necessity. Her waist slimmed down without the aid of a corset., then opened out to shapely hips and shapely, yet powerful legs which were emphasized rather than hidden by the trousers. Her ensemble was completed by the Pawnee moccasins on her feet. She wore no feminine adornment. Instead, a brown gunbelt slanted down from her left hip with an ivory handled Colt 1851 Navy revolver butt forward in its low cavalry twist draw holster. On the left side of her waistbelt, its handle thrust through a broad leather loop, was suspended a long lashed, coiled bull whip which looked far more functional than decorative.
‘Those two silly young blighters mean mischief!’ the Kid declared watching Dutchy and Tony come to a halt so they were taking up most of the sidewalk.
‘I’d be inclined to say “yes” to that,’ Belle replied calmly.
‘Then hadn’t one ought to do something about stopping them?’ the Kid inquired, puzzled by his companion’s attitude.
‘I wouldn’t trouble if I were you-all,’ the Rebel Spy answered. ‘She won’t hurt them too badly.’
‘That wasn’t quite what I’m concerned about, dear girl,’ the Kid protested, although he realized there must be some sound reason for Belle’s reaction. ‘Rather the opposite, in fact.’
‘Do you reckon she works in a circus, or a carnival, Dutchy?’ Tony inquired, loudly enough to bring the couple’s conversation to an end.
‘She sure as hell doesn’t look like she’s come from no convent,’ the Germanic trooper replied, running a lascivious gaze over the red head’s figure rather than watching her face. ‘I tell you, Tony, she puts me in mind of a gal I saw one time at Madame Lil’s fancy cat-house in lil old New York. She used to wear pants and had a whip to whomp fellers who were took with such doings.’
‘I wouldn’t mind trying that myself,’ the shorter soldier remarked, making the same error as his friend in studying the girl’s body instead of her features. ‘So long as it was done gentle and loving. Hey, Red, is that the sort of thing you do?’
‘I’ve whomped one or two on occasion,’ Miss Canary admitted, sounding mild and continuing to stroll onwards in an apparently unconcerned fashion. ‘Thing right now, though, is whether you pair of prime specimens of the good old U.S. cavalry’re expecting a poor, sweet, pretty lil gal like me to have to walk by you in the gutter. Because I’m going to be madder’n a hot-boiled screech-owl happen I have to.’
‘You are, huh?’ Dutchy growled, not too far gone in liquor to have failed to detect the cold sarcasm underlying the gentle tones. His attitude towards members of the opposite sex was what would in a later generation become known as that of a male chauvinist pig. So he found the girl’s attitude irritating and considered she should be taught a lesson. Liquor always had the effect of increasing the tendency to be a bully which had been responsible for his enlistment in the cavalry.
‘You’d better believe it,’ Miss Canary confirmed, measuring the distance separating them with her eyes.
‘She means it, Dutchy!’ Tony ejaculated in tones of mock horror, moving until he was resting his rump against the hitching rail. Like his companion, he believed their conduct would be excused by the townspeople as they were members of the U.S. cavalry and the girl did not strike him as being of the kind regarded as “good”. ‘All right, lady, there’s no need to get all pushy. Come on through.’
‘Sure thing,’ the larger soldier agreed, drawing a conclusion from the emphasis placed on the word ‘pushy’ and stepping aside to stand with his back to the saloon’s window. ‘You do that, lady.’
For all the signs to the contrary she displayed, the red head might have considered the invitation to pass between the soldiers was genuine and harmless. However, if either had been more observant, he might have noticed that her left hand went in a casual seeming gesture towards the handle of the bull whip. In a similarly innocuous appearing fashion, as she was almost to them, she swung her torso so she was facing towards Dutchy and presented Tony with what was, on the surface at any rate, an ideal opportunity to carry out the hint he had given regarding his intentions.
Delighted by the way in which the situation was developing, Tony thrust himself from the hitching rail with the intention of shoving the young woman towards his waiting companion. Just as pleased and satisfied by the turn of events, Dutchy started to step forward and made ready to encircle her with his arms.
Even as the Kid was on the point of disregarding Belle’s instructions, he discovered that her confidence was justifiable and there would be no need for him to intervene.
Slipping the whip free with a deft motion. Miss Canary did not attempt to uncoil its lash. Instead, she struck backwards with the handle so it met Tony’s whiskey-filled belly. While she was just too late to prevent him from delivering the push, the blow was sufficiently hard to cause him to fold at the waist and retreat to the accompaniment of an agony-filled gurgle.
It was soon apparent that, in spite of being propelled forward, the red head had drawn a similar conclusion to Dutchy’s with regard to the emphasis given to ‘pushy’. Nor was she being sent helplessly into his grasp. Instead, ducking her head, she delivered a butt to his stomach. Aided by the impetus of Tony’s shove, her attack proved most successful. Its effect was increased by the impact coming while its recipient’s right foot was raised to take a step. Caught unaware and off balance, he was knocked away from her. Having no control at all over his movements, due to the force with which he had been struck, he crashed backwards through the window, shattering the panes and sash, to disappear into the building.
Brought to a halt by the hitching rail, which also prevented him from toppling into the street, Tony spluttered out a breathlessly obscene suggestion as to his assailant’s possible employment and the marital state, or lack of it, of her parents at the time of her birth. Having done so, he flung himself into the attack once more. Hearing what he said, despite the commotion arising in the saloon as a result of Dutchy’s dram
atic and unorthodox entrance, Miss Canary found it added to her annoyance over the earlier references made about her. She also deduced correctly that he would not restrict himself to just verbal abuse and had no qualms over the way in which she decided to respond. Turning fast, she caught his outstretched right wrist in both hands. Then, taking a rapid step to her right, she pivoted and gave a horizontal heave on the captured limb. It was powered by all the strength in her gorgeous, but firm muscled body. What little air remained in Tony’s lungs was expended in a startled and alarmed wail as he realized what was happening and where he was going. Propelled across the sidewalk, he followed his companion through the window.
‘There!’ Belle remarked, with an air of smug condescension and released the Kid’s arm, having clung on to it to prevent him from going to the red head’s rescue. ‘I told you so.’
‘So you did, dear girl, so you did,’ the Englishman conceded, visibly impressed by what he had just witnessed. ‘But if that is what you consider not hurting them too badly, I would hate to suffer what you’d regard as rough handling. You know her, of course?’
‘I do,’ Belle confirmed, seeing the people elsewhere along the street were looking at the cause of the commotion and that others were coming from the saloon to investigate.
‘Who is she?’ asked the Kid.
‘Calamity Jane,’ the Rebel Spy replied. ‘Who else?’
Chapter Four – Talked Them Out Of It, She Says
‘Who else, of course,’ Captain Patrick Reeder drawled, showing none of the surprise he felt as he looked from Belle Boyd to the red head; who was just as much a legend in her own lifetime as the Rebel Spy. 15 ‘I hardly needed to ask.’
Even as the Remittance Kid was speaking, the leading pair of customers who were coming to investigate the disturbance appeared through the front doors of the Fair Lady Saloon. They were closely followed by Sergeant Magoon. Neither had been present when the Englishman had left to collect Belle and one was the head of Mulrooney’s municipal law enforcement agency.
Six foot tall, well made and ruggedly handsome, Marshal Kail Beauregard differed from the majority of Kansas trail-end towns’ peace officers by being a Texan and scrupulously honest. He had on a wide brimmed, low crowned black J.B. Stetson hat and a neat brown suit, but the well-worn Colt 1860 Army revolver he carried reposed in the fast draw holster of a well-designed and manufactured gunbelt.
Exceeding the marshal’s height by a good three inches and weighing over two hundred pounds, none of it flabby fat, the second man out had a clean shaven face that seemed to express a benign innocence. Although he too had on a brown businessman’s suit, his gunbelt had a James black bowie knife sheathed on the left side and a Colt Cavalry Model Peacemaker rode in its contoured holster. In spite of his attire, Belle recognized him as being Cecil “Dobe” Killem. Not only did he operate a highly successful freighting business, he was Miss Martha Jane Canary’s employer.
‘Goddamn it, Calam,’ Killem boomed, looking to where the red head was bending to retrieve the bull whip she had dropped when being pushed towards Dutchy. ‘I just might’ve knowed it was you out here.’
‘Well I’ll swan if that just don’t beat all!” Calamity Jane answered, exuding an aura of artlessness and mildly self-righteous indignation. ‘If I’d’ve been in Chicago back to Seventy-one, Dobe Killem, I’ll bet you’d’ve blamed me for that son-of-a-bitching fire they had.’ 16
‘If you’d’ve been there,’ the freighter countered, being all too aware of his unconventional employee’s penchant for becoming involved in any trouble which occurred in her vicinity. ‘I’d’ve known you’d have to be mixed in it somehow.’
‘Excuse me, sir,’ the Kid put in, walking forward, drawing the required conclusion from the dig in the ribs he was given by Belle’s elbow. ‘But I consider that in the interests of justice and fair play, I must state this charming young lady acted as she did under the most extreme and dire provocation.’
‘Hot damn, Rem!’ the Rebel Spy snorted, in louder tones than were necessary or tactful, following the Englishman with no sign of the delight she felt over the way in which he had interpreted her signal. ‘Trust you-all to go billing in this way just because there’s some over-stuffed, half-naked girl involved.’
Being aware that her far from orthodox way of life and mode of dress did not meet with the approval of many other members of her sex, Calamity swung a far from artless – if more genuinely indignant – look at the speaker. Recognition came almost immediately and, although for a moment the Rebel Spy thought she would express surprise over the meeting, her ability as a poker player prevented her from doing so. What was more, knowing how the slender girl earned her living, the words she had heard supplied a clue to the response that was required.
‘Why thank you ‘most to death, kind sir,’ the red head responded, directing a smile apparently filled with gratitude and a suggestion of something even more personal at the good looking, well dressed Englishman. ‘No matter what your mother reckons, it does a gal’s heart good to find out there’re a few for-real gentlemen left.’
‘Mother?’ Belle squealed, realizing that the other girl’s answer had been ideal for what she hoped to achieve at a more opportune moment. Furthermore, she felt confident that – provided the requisite co-operation could be obtained – there might be an even more useful solution to the problem which she and the Kid had been discussing on their way from the hotel. ‘Rem honey, did you hear what—?’
‘I heard, dear girl!’ the Englishman confirmed, in tones which implied an exasperation that needed the exercise of considerable will power to keep under control. ‘Now do keep quiet while the constable, or whatever this gentleman is called, asks us some questions.’
‘Calam darlin’!’ Magoon boomed out, advancing with outstretched arms. ‘Do you mean to tell me that them two Johnny Raws 17 had the “audadtariness” and stupidity to go picking on you?’
‘That they did, the heathen spalpeens,’ the red head confirmed, throwing her arms around the burly sergeant’s neck and giving him a smacking kiss on the lips. ‘But I sort of talked them out of it.’
‘Talked ’em out of it, she says,’ Magoon ejaculated, extracting himself from the embrace with a surprisingly bashful grin. Then, remembering how the damage had been caused, he threw a glance at the ruined window and went on, ‘Well, that’s one way of putting it, darlin’. Sure and it’s a fine wife you’d be making for me, as I think I’ve said before.’
‘Sure you have, me broth of a boyo,’ Calamity agreed, mimicking the sergeant’s accent and, stepping away from him, returning the handle of the whip to its loop on her waistbelt. ‘And as soon’s I said “yes” the last time you proposed, you was up and headed for the high country as fast as a well-greased jack rabbit with a weasel chomping on its butt.’
‘That was your fault, darlin’,’ the sergeant protested. ‘I was counting on you to say “no”.’ 18
While the conversation was going on, the crowd of customers and girls which was blocking the doorway of the saloon parted to let a woman pass through. That they moved so quickly despite their interest in what was going on was indicative of the respect they had for her, both as the owner of the premises and as the person who more than any of the other citizens had caused Mulrooney not only to flourish but to have an unrivalled reputation for honesty and fair dealing exceeding that of any other Kansas trail end town. 19
Although the same height as Belle and Calamity, the woman known in Mulrooney as “Freddie Woods” 20 had such a regal bearing and carriage that she gave the impression of being taller. A few years older than the Rebel Spy, her figure was – if not so prominently displayed at that moment – even more curvaceous than the red head’s and her contours were come by just as naturally. She had black hair, elegantly coiffured if somewhat shorter than the current fashion, framing a beautiful face with strength and intelligence in its lines. As she had been attending to her duties as mayor of the town, she was dressed soberly, if expensively, in a
black two-piece costume and frilly bosomed white blouse of masculine line; but contrived to make it seem as sensual as the most daring ball gown.
‘Hum!’ Freddie said, having stepped through the doors and, looking around, bringing her gaze to a halt when it reached the red head. ‘Some of your work, I presume, Calam?
‘Oh no!’ Calamity groaned, slapping the heel of her left hand against her forehead and raising her eyes as if searching the heavens for divine support. ‘Like that jasper said in a play I once got took to by mistake, “Eat, you brute?”. Whatever in hell that might mean.’
‘Gracious me,’ the lady mayor said, smiling, without offering to correct the red head’s misquotation. 21 ‘Has somebody else accused you?’
‘Only about half the son-of-a-bit – gunning town so far!’ Calamity exaggerated, changing the word ‘bitch’ for the more acceptable ‘gun’ out of deference for Freddie’s presence. ‘But I reckon the other half’ll get ’round to it afore nightfall.’
‘It’s the penalty of fame,’ the mayor pointed out, satisfied even without inquiring further that the red head must have had an excellent reason for causing the damage. Then a recollection of something she had seen while glancing around on her arrival, but which had failed to register fully at the time, struck her. Turning her head, she stared for a moment at the Kid and, such was her surprise on discovering she was correct in her identification, she could not prevent herself from ejaculating, ‘Great day in the morning! It is you. Pat!’
‘Hello, Freddie old thing,’ the Englishman answered, amused to see such a strong reaction from a person who was normally so completely self-possessed. He waved his left hand languidly from Beauregard to Calamity as he continued, ‘As I was telling the marshal, this young lady was not to blame for the contretemps.’
‘Do you-all know this gent, Miss Woods?’ the peace officer inquired, speaking formally as it was an official matter although he was on first-name terms with the mayor.