by J. T. Edson
Matt Kyte’s Colt was slanting down at Waco when the side door burst from its hinges and Mark Counter stood there. His right hand Colt rocked, the long barrel kicked up and Kyte reeled backwards with a bullet in his chest.
Behind Mark came Doc Leroy and the Kid, guns out, lining on the gunmen before any of them could make a draw. Ole Walpai Harry was the only one to try, his Colt was out and flaming but he missed, for Doc Leroy cut him down.
Dusty came to his feet, holding the sabre and facing Von Schnabel. He could see what had happened and prepared to see how the German stacked against a man who really could use a sabre.
‘My pleasure, sir,’ said Dusty Fog.
Von Schnabel looked at the small man facing him, saw the faultless stance and the correct way the sabre was held. Here was a man with whom he could match steel, a man who could handle the sabre well. He brought the sword to a salute, which Dusty replied to with a flourish.
Then they engaged blades. Steel clashed against steel as the two men tested each other. It took Von Schnabel just three fast passes to know that he was matched with a man who could really handle a sabre.
Waco ran to Beth’s side, catching her in his arms, even while steel rang against steel. He kissed her and then she gasped:
‘Stop them, Waco. Stop them!’
‘No, honey. Dusty called the play. We’ve got to leave them as they lay.’
The two men fought with savage skill. There was little to choose between them. Von Schnabel’s extra height and reach off-set by Dusty’s practice. Where Von Schnabel rarely got a chance to keep his training up, Dusty regularly worked out at the OD Connected, sabre fighting with the other members of the clan, all of whom were good with a blade. So Dusty held just that slight edge over the other man.
The other men watched, although probably only Mark knew much about what was happening. The big Texan was good with a sabre but he admitted that he would not like to face either of the fighting men.
It was a fast action fight. Von Schnabel used every bit of skill he possessed to take the other man, but he was matched by a skill just as great. Sweat poured down their faces as they battled up and down the room. Both were feeling the tremendous pace and both knew the slightest slip would mean the end of the fight.
Von Schnabel tried to beat Dusty’s blade down, making a bind by using the strong edge of the blade, the part nearest the basket hit, to control Dusty’s point, or feeble. Dusty parried fast, deflecting the movement of the German’s sword. Then, from the half-lunge position, Dusty made his attack.
He brought his weight heavily on to his right foot, swung the left foot forward as far as he could, stamping down hard. His half-lunge changed at the last moment to a thrust.
Too late Von Schnabel saw the flash attack. He tried to bring his own blade into a parry but Dusty’s sabre was inside his guard. The point bit into the German’s body, driven by the forward thrust until the point came out the other side.
For a moment Von Schnabel stood. The sabre fell from his hands as they clutched down at the blade of Dusty’s weapon and he fell to the ground, pulling the sabre from Dusty’s hand. Dusty staggered to a table, leaning against it and gasping for breath. There was not a movement throughout the room as he stood swaying. Then he recovered, got full control of himself, and looked at the others.
‘A dead game fighter,’ he said. ‘Doc, do what you can for him.’
Waco tossed Dusty his guns, then picked up the matched staghorn-butted Colts from the bar and holstered them. He gripped Beth in his arms, turning her from the bloody sight on the floor. Gently he soothed the sobbing girl:
‘There now, honey,’ he whispered. ‘It’s all done now.’
Lynn and Ella came through the door and stood looking at Von Schnabel. Doc Leroy removed the sabre and looked up, shaking his head sadly. It was only a matter of time before Von Schnabel died. The man lay on the floor, he spoke in German and none of them could understand it. Then he died.
Dusty looked the hired gunmen over, his eyes cold and hard. ‘You lot get out of this town and keep going,’ he ordered.
They needed no second telling. They were hired fighting men and the pay ceased with the death of Von Schnabel.
There was nothing for them to fight over any more.
‘Got his safe keys here,’ Doc remarked, holding a small bunch of keys out. ‘Reckon we’d best take a look through it and see what he’s got inside.’
‘We’ll tend to it, amigo,’ Dusty replied. ‘You ‘n’ Waco best take the girls back to the Twin Bridge Saloon and wait for us.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
IF YOU CAN’T LICK ‘EM, JOIN ‘EM
A WEEK passed after the killing of Von Schnabel, a very busy week for Waco. His telegraph message brought the Territorial Governor hot-foot to Two Forks and started a full-scale investigation into Von Schnabel’s affairs. A book in the German’s safe, when translated, told his entire plan. How he organised the robberies, using five men who came to America with him, ex-members of his regiment. They planned to use the various Indian tribes as a fighting force and to take over the whole of the United States.
The telegraph wires were busy between Two Forks and Washington, but at the end of the week word came. The United States were not meaning to make an International incident out of the business for the German Government knew nothing of Von Schnabel’s plans.
It was a worrying week for Beth. She saw little of Waco, except at the official receptions and formal dinners given for the governor of the territory. Woman-like, she wondered if he was having second thoughts about marriage and settling down, now that he was reunited with Dusty Fog and his other friends.
So it was, one morning she and Lynn stood out back of the jail and watched Dusty, Mark, the Kid and Waco saddling their horses, bedrolls on the saddles ready to ride. Beth was close to tears, for Waco had told her nothing of his plans for the future and she was sure he was riding off with his friends, headed back home to Texas.
‘Sister-mine,’ Lynn said grimly. ‘Was that my fool man riding off with those three fellers I’d haul him out of that kak and stomp on his head.’
Beth shook her head stubbornly. ‘If he wants to go, he can. I don’t care.’
Waco finished saddling the paint, then looked at the other three. ‘You be sure and get back here for the wedding,’ he said. ‘I reckon another fortnight’ll see us clear and give me time to get everything fixed.’
‘We’ll do it, boy,’ Dusty promised. ‘We’ll fix it with the Arizona Governor to announce an amnesty on you, Doc and Cap’n Burt. Wouldn’t want the Pinkertons to try ‘n’ haul you off to jail on your wedding day.’
‘You take care of that lil gal, boy,’ Mark ordered. ‘You might be sheriff up here but we can still hold you down and “chap” you, if we have to.’
‘Surely hates to see another good man go, though,’ drawled the Ysabel Kid. ‘I bet you she has him all tamed down afore you can say hominy grits.’
Turning, Waco walked towards the two girls. He suddenly realised what he’d done. That Beth was eating her heart out with worry over him. He wanted to take her in his arms and beg her to forgive him. He managed to hold his face straight as he heard Dusty, Mark and the Kid mount their horses.
‘Reckon you, Doc and them two ole goats can hold down the town, Lynn?’
‘Sure,’ replied Lynn, eyeing Waco with cold anger plain on her face.
‘Good, then me’n the boss-lady can head out for the spread and have a couple of days in private.’
It took Beth a minute to understand what Waco meant. Then she gave a cry of delight, flung her arms around his neck, laughing, crying, kissing him and gasping incoherent words. The only sensible thing Lynn could make of it was Beth sobbing:
‘I knew you wouldn’t leave me.’
Lynn watched the three Texans riding away, then turned her eyes to the heavens as her sister and Waco walked towards his horse.
‘Lordy me,’ she sighed. ‘Ain’t love just wonderful. If I ever gets that
way I hope the sky falls in on me.’
At that moment Doc Leroy stepped from the door of the jail building and stood looking at Waco and Beth. He’d seen considerable of Lynn for the past few days and could tell that she felt the same way about him as he did about her. He slipped an arm around her shoulders and sighed.
‘First it was Red Blaze, then Johnny Raybold, Stone Hart, Rusty Willis. Now it’s Waco.’
‘What’re you getting on at?’ she asked truculently.
‘You know what they say, gal. If you can’t lick ‘em, join ‘em. Will you marry me?’
Lynn flung herself into Doc’s arms. Through her excited agreement she saw her mother standing at the door. The girl released Doc and stood with glassy eyes, her face pale.
‘What’s wrong, Lynn?’ Ella asked worriedly.
‘Mammy,’ replied Lynn happily. ‘The sky just fell down on me.’
THE END
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THE QUEST FOR BOWIE’S BLADE by J. T. EDSON
The task seemed simple enough to the Ysabel Kid. All he had to do was ride into Mexico, find the man who had killed James Bowie at the Alamo and ask him to return Bowie’s legendary knife to its rightful owners. Nothing simpler—or so the Kid thought . . .
But before the job was through he had locked horns with some mighty bad hombres. Men like Manos Grande, the fearsome Yaqui war chief; Silk, a dude but also a lightning fast killer; and Juan Eschuchador, as mean a bandido as ever slit a throat. And then there were the women, real tough ladies like Belle Boyd, the rebel spy working for the US Secret Service or Belle Starr, the outlaw—but at least they were on the Kid’s side—or were they?
552 09444 7—30p T180
NOTES
1. Reason is told in Waco Rides In by J. T. Edson.
2. Told in The Trouble Busters.
3. Told in Sagebrush Sleuth and Arizona Ranger.
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Scanned and proofed by Amigo da Onça