by J. T. Edson
‘Whatever you-all want, Rem-honey,’ Belle answered, following the Englishman’s line of reasoning and taking the Remington Double Derringer from the right side pocket of the jacket of the brown two piece traveling costume – which had been tailored to meet certain specialized needs of her profession – she was wearing. ‘But I think it’s a sin we should be treated this way.’
‘It is only with the deepest reluctance that I do it, mademoiselle,’ Cavallier declared, then swung his gaze to Lincoln and held out the weapons. ‘Take care of these, m’sieur, and make sure my friends are made comfortable until we return. Remember, too, that they are my friends and treat them with every courtesy.’
‘Sure thing, Mr. Cavallier,’ the freighter replied, drawing the required conclusions from the way his orders had been expressed. ‘I’ll tend to it for you.’
‘See you do, m’sieur,’’ Cavallier commanded. ‘And now, “Mr. and Mrs. Roxby”, it is time we let my compatriots take us to the meeting.’
‘You go, “Mr. Dev – Roxby”,’ the actress suggested, throwing a pointed look at Belle and the Kid. ‘There’s nothing I can do if I come and I don’t feel like doing any more traveling today.’
‘All right,’ “Devlin” agreed, sharing the woman’s disinclination to trust any of the people with whom they were involved out of one or the other’s sight. ‘I’m ready to go when you are, Mr. Cavallier.’
‘You know something, “Mrs. Roxby”?’ Calamity Jane remarked, strolling towards where the actress was sitting on the folding chair she had taken from the fire to the side of the wagon in which she and her “husband” were traveling and was nursing a shotgun across her knees. ‘I get the feeling that you don’t trust somebody around here.’
About half an hour had elapsed since “Devlin” and the three Metis had taken their departure. While they were saddling the horses, Vera had called Lincoln aside and spoken with him. She had pointed out that she and her “husband” were aware of his employer’s identity and could make life very unpleasant for both of them in the future if there was any cause for complaint. She had also warned him that there were other anarchists to take revenge in case anything happened to them. Then she had insisted that the weapons taken from “Lavinia Saltyre” and the Remittance Kid were handed over to her, promising to save him from any repercussions if Cavallier objected later.
Ever ready to run with the hare and hunt with the hounds, the freighter had not hesitated to comply with the actress’s wishes. What was more, appreciating how he would be affected if there should prove to be cause for her suspicions, he had ordered Frenchie Ponthieu and Joe Polaski to keep a close watch on the couple. Sharing his apprehension, the drivers had positioned themselves so they could carry out their instructions effectively and refused the Kid’s suggestion that they played poker to help pass the time until le Loup-Garou returned.
‘I’ve got such good cause to trust you haven’t I?’ Vera challenged, coming to her feet with the shotgun held before her in both hands.
‘Lordy Lord!’ the red head said, grinning disarmingly. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve got to know I’ve been letting good ole “Lavinia” ’n’ Rem bed down together in my wagon some nights?’
‘I have!’ Vera admitted, without either raising the weapon to a position of greater readiness or showing any sign of relaxing. ‘What was the idea?’
‘They paid me to and doing it let me get to bed down all warm ’n’ cozy with the “mon-sewer”,’ Calamity explained, coming to a halt just beyond arms’ length and placing her hands on her hips. ‘Which it’s surely true what I’ve always heard about Frenchmen. And, anyways, they promised me true ’n’ faithful’s they’d be bundling.’
‘Bundling?’ Vera queried, showing a lack of comprehension. ‘What’s that?’
‘It’s what folks out here say when a young feller comes a-courting in the wintertime and can’t make it home at night,’ the red head informed, satisfied that her real reason for starting the conversation might be understood by her companions, but had not aroused anybody else’s suspicions. ‘It’s too cold for them to sit out on the porch to do their spooning and, even if there’s a room to spare, they’d not be wanting to have to keep getting up to feed the fire was they on their own. So, ’though they haven’t been married off all churched ’n’ proper, they can get into the same bed all warm ’n’ cozy just so long’s there a plank put between ’em so they’re kept apart. Don’t you do that in England?’
‘I’ve never heard of it,’ Vera admitted, then glanced past the girl to where Belle and the Kid were sitting on similar chairs to the one she had just vacated. ‘Are you telling me that is what they were doing in your wagon?’
‘Hot damn!’ Calamity ejaculated, with such vehemence that she brought the actress’s attention back to her. Restraining a desire to glance over her shoulder, she could only gamble upon her companions having deduced what she was contemplating and would be ready to back her play when she made it. ‘Are you saying’s they might not’ve bundled? And here’s lil ole me, knowing who she is, figuring’s she for sure could be trusted not to do nothing’s wouldn’t be right ’n’ proper for a lady.’
‘You trusted her to behave like a lady?’ Vera scoffed and, although she indicated the slender “blonde” with a brief gesture from the shotgun, there was nothing in her attitude to suggest she suspected the truth or that anything was amiss.
‘I sure’s hell’s for sinners did?’ Calamity declared, after thinking. ‘Here goes and, happen you ’n’ Rem haven’t read the signs right, Belle-gal, there’s going to be hot times “round here real soon!” ’ Tensing a little, she elaborated further, ‘That’s not just some cat-house “hello dearie” you’re selling so short, damn it. She’s the Rebel Spy!’
‘She’s the Rebel Spy?’ Vera repeated, almost instinctively. Then a realization of what the red head had said struck her as if she had been slapped across the face. However, such was the effect of the belated comprehension that all she could think of doing was to continue speaking and her voice ascended in volume to such an extent that it brought the attention of Lincoln and his employees to her. ‘Did you say she’s the REBEL SPY?’
‘That’s just who she is!’ Calamity whooped, praying that her purpose had not only been understood by her friends, but they would be able to make the most of the diversion she was creating.
‘Lincoln!’ Vera shrieked, panic mingling with the rage and mortification which were assailing her over the discovery of how thoroughly she had been taken in, as she started to raise the shotgun. ‘Kill them!’
Hearing the startled exclamations from the freighter and his drivers, but still not daring to look anywhere except at the actress, Calamity was aware that she would very soon find out what was happening by the larger camp fire.
Although the red head had not supplied them with any definite indication of her intentions before going to speak with Vera, Belle and the Kid had drawn the conclusions she required. They were also fully conversant with the difficulties they would be facing when she presented them with an opportunity to benefit from whatever she was planning. Frenchie Ponthieu and Joe Polaski, each cradling a Winchester Model of 1866 carbine on his lap, were squatting in front of them. Both were beyond reaching distance, but not too far away and their posture was less conducive to rapid movement than that of a person who, like the Kid, was sitting on a chair, or Belle, as she had stood on the pretext of going to answer the call of nature beyond the firelight. The awkwardness would be particularly applicable if the drivers’ attention should be distracted when the need to respond with alacrity arose.
The Rebel Spy and the Englishman knew, however, that there were two jokers in the deck!
While Lincoln was not holding a weapon, being seated on another of the folding chairs at the opposite side of the fire, he posed a greater threat than either Ponthieu or Polaski.
So did the three Chinamen who were gathered at the smaller fire, if the Kid’s estimation of them was not at fault.
; Deducing correctly that something was radically wrong from the name they had heard, the freighter and the drivers realized they must take action even before the actress yelled her instructions. Having looked towards the wagons, they also became aware that they were allowing their attention to wander at a most inopportune moment and started to rectify the situation.
Knotting her work-hardened right fist, Calamity stepped forward. Rotating her torso and dropping the right shoulder to put the full weight of her powerful young body behind it, she drove forward her right arm as she had been taught by Dobe Killem was most effective when throwing a punch. Rising rapidly, her knuckles made contact beneath Vera’s jaw with a click such as two billiard balls made when kissing. With the shotgun dropping from her grasp, and her body being tilted rearwards at the hips, the actress was knocked from her feet by the force of the blow. In going down, the back of her head struck the side of the wagon with a wicked crack. Already stunned, she did not feel the impact even though it fractured her skull and was to send her into a deep coma from which she would not recover.
Shaking her throbbing hand, Calamity bent to grab for the shotgun. She did not know how serious an injury she might have inflicted. Nor, remembering what she had been told and seen of Vera, did she particularly care. Already she could hear a commotion behind her. Even without looking to find out what the various sounds might portend, she realized that gaining possession of it could be of vital importance. While she had not been disarmed along with her friends, she was aware of the need for a weapon with a greater effective range than either the bull whip or her Navy Colt.
A sense of alarm assailed the red head as her hands were closing upon the shotgun’s foregrip and the wrist of the butt!
Although the actress had been nursing the weapon for some time, she had not drawn the hammers to fully cocked!
On rising and making her excuse for having done so, Belle had started to run her thumbs around the waistband of the brown skirt. It had been an innocuous appearing gesture and neither Ponthieu, who was in front of her, nor the other two men had seen anything wrong with it.
However, the moment Vera had raised her voice, the Rebel Spy demonstrated that her action was far from harmless. Without glancing at the Kid, knowing he was aware of what she intended to do, she tugged at the garment’s restraining strap. Designed for just such a purpose, it came apart and the waist of the skirt expanded so it was able to fall away without impediment. As had happened on other occasions when she had taken similar measures, she watched the three men’s eyes following the skirt’s descent with lascivious interest and knew they were doomed to disappointment. While they were undoubtedly expecting to have some form of feminine under garment to be revealed, having anticipated that the need might arise, she was wearing form-fitting black riding breeches and matching Hessian boots beneath the skirt.
Making an accurate guess at how the Rebel Spy would handle her end of the affair, the Kid had not needed to look at her. Instead, on hearing the actress’s yell, he launched himself from the chair like a disturbed pheasant taking wing. Swiftly as he moved, he saw Polaski’s gaze swinging hurriedly back to him from where it had been diverted by watching the descent of the skirt.
On discovering that the Englishman was taking advantage of his inattention, the driver began to thrust himself erect and turn the barrel of the carbine so it could be used. Equally appreciative of the danger, his employer and Ponthieu were also rising and preparing to take action. So were the three Chinamen at the other fire, although he did not notice them. A small throwing axe slid from its place of concealment up each man’s wide black sleeve.
Jumping clear of the skirt as it fell away. Belle alighted in range and her right leg rose swiftly to miss its intended mark. She had meant to catch Ponthieu under the chin, but instead took him into the center of the chest. Flung over backwards, he neither fired nor dropped the carbine. Springing forward, she delivered a stamp to his stomach which winded him and, kicking the weapon from his grasp, dived after it.
Showing surprising agility considering his thickset bulk, Polaski was rising and trying to align the Winchester rapidly. Out thrust the Kid’s hands, the left caught the barrel and turned the muzzle aside, while the right clamped over the brass frame. Twisting down with the former and lifting the latter until he felt the driver resisting, he suddenly reversed the directions. Snatching the carbine from its confused owner’s grip, he swung and drove the metal butt plate against the side of the knitted woolen cap.
Even as Polaski was going down unconscious, the Englishman saw that Lincoln was posing a very serious threat to himself and the girls.
Like the driver felled by the Kid, the freighter was capable of rapid movement when the circumstances called for it. He had been taken just as unprepared as any of his employees by the developments which followed Calamity engaging Vera in conversation. For all that, coming to his feet with alacrity, he commenced his draw as soon as he had perceived there was a real and urgent need to arm himself. Even as he was starting to liberate the Merwin & Holbert Army Pocket revolver from the “half breed” shoulder holster, he became aware that having it in his hand was anything but a guarantee that he would be in control of the situation. Not only were his male drivers being rendered helpless, the red head’s actions suggested she was far from being the loyal employee he had imagined.
Swiveling around with the shotgun snapping to her shoulder, Calamity had not waited to draw the hammers to fully cocked before raising it. She saw the freighter was bringing out the revolver and guessed from the way he was holding it that the Kid was the object of his attention. There was, she concluded, only one thing she could do. Run the best god-damned bluff she had ever produced and hope it would pay off.
‘It’s him or me, Jebediah!’ the red head yelled. ‘You can’t take us both!’
Even though Lincoln had the weapon out, he was cognizant of the precarious position he was in. Being unable to discern that Calamity could not fire the shotgun immediately, he felt sure she would have no hesitation over using it. While he might shoot the Englishman, she was just as certain to get him. Or would be, if it was not for one thing. Already his Chinese employees held their deadly throwing axes and were starting to move forward to a range at which the weapons could be launched with the certainty of hitting. He was confident that neither Calamity, “Lavinia”, nor the Kid were aware of the danger.
‘Drop the axes!’ the Kid snapped, suffering from no such delusion as the freighter anticipated, twisting around until he was directing the carbine at the leader of the trio and speaking in the Cantonese dialect he had picked up in the Far East, knowing they would understand. ‘Quickly!’
‘Your “Chinees” are out of it, Jebediah!’ Calamity warned.
‘But I’m not!’ Belle went on, completing her rolling dive on her knees and with the butt of the carbine she had collected in passing nestled against her right shoulder. ‘You can’t get more than one of us. Which is it to be, give up – or die?’
Taking in everything that was happening, Lincoln found his hole card had failed to produce a winning hand.
No cowards, the three Chinese were far from fools. They were still too far away to be sure of hitting with their axes. What was more, their leader knew he would be the first to die if they should try to attack. He had not overlooked the way in which the Englishman had addressed him and knew he could not hope to pass as the harmless “Chinee” most Occidentals he had met in the United States considered him. There was, he concluded, only one thing to do.
‘All right!’ Lincoln yelled, seeing the three throwing axes drop to the ground at their owners’ feet and realizing all was lost. The sound of shooting might be heard by Cavallier’s party and bring them back to investigate, but they would be too late to save him from being killed. Tossing his revolver aside, he raised his hands, continuing, ‘I’m through.’
Although the freighter did not know it, one of Cavallier’s party was in the vicinity.
In spite of having been c
onvinced that the Kid was a potential assistant, le Loup-Garou was not the man to leave anything to chance. So he had sent Raoul Canche back with orders to remain concealed in the woodland near the camp and watch everything that happened.
Concluding that Cavallier’s faith in the Englishman was misplaced, the Metis brought up and started to aim his Henry rifle.
Chapter Fifteen – What is the Jan-Dark?
‘Congratulations, old chap,’ Captain Patrick Reeder said approvingly, as Jebediah Lincoln signified his surrender. ‘You’ve made a wi—’
Before the comment could be completed, there was a soft thud – the cause of which was obvious to anybody who had heard a knife being driven into human flesh – from the darkness. It was followed instantly by a grasping cry of pain and the crack of a rifle being discharged to send a bullet not too far above the Remittance Kid’s head. Dropping his smoking Henry, Raoul Canche advanced with staggering steps into the light of the camp fires. Agony distorted his swarthy features and his hands were reaching behind his arched back. They returned to the front, covered with something red and wet, as his knees buckled and he collapsed face down.
Startled exclamations burst from Belle Boyd, Calamity Jane, the Kid and Lincoln. However, although his captors’ attention was diverted from him, the freighter realized that the situation was not being improved as far as he was concerned. The long knife in the right hand of the tall, dour-faced man who followed the dying Metis from the darkness was red with blood, which meant he was unlikely to be an ally. What was more, the Winchester Model of 1866 rifle in his left fist could be brought into use too quickly for there to be any hope of turning the tables on him or the trio.