"Turn right into the trees," Annie replied. "We'll point you from there."
They rode for a time in silence, Mark in the lead and the two girls like the twin points of the letter V behind him. However as they left the wooded land behind them and
wound through the rolling Indian Nations land, Britches could restrain herself no longer.
"Boy!" she said, bringing her pony alongside Mark's stallion. "Won't this shake ole Bill down to his toes. And Red Buck and the rest. We'll make a thousand on our first chore."
"Sure," Annie agreed delightedly. "And they wouldn't take us with 'em this time in case the going got rough. I bet they take us along in future."
Mark considered this highly likely, or that Doolin would throw them out on their rumps for pulling such a fool trick. He could imagine Doolin's comments when the outlaw heard the two girls had been stupid enough to think of kidnapping Mark Counter and asking for a ransom from his father, Big Ranee Counter. Mark also thought that the girls might find Doolin's reaction far from the one they hoped to receive.
For a pair of bold, daring kidnappers, the girls made a bad mistake. They took trouble to hide their tracks and stuck to country over which the following of sign would be a slow, difficult proceeding. Yet they made no attempt to blindfold him and prevent him seeing where they took him.
After covering some five miles from the trail, the girls pointed Mark down into a wide, winding valley. The slopes rose fairly steep, with a scattering of rocks, trees and bushes covering them, but the bottom lay open and offered good grazing.
Turning a bend in the valley brought them into sight of a small log cabin. A snug retreat well hidden from prying eyes. To one side of it lay a spring which widened into a deep pool and trickled off in a stream which ran through the edges of a couple of pole corrals. Although the corrals had no horses in them, they had been in recent use. All in all the place looked ideal for gentlemen following Mr. William Doolin's self-effacing business.
"Get yourself down, big boy," Annie ordered as they reached the corrals. "Watch him, Britches, while I tend to the hosses."
"You-all reckon you can handle that big bloodbay of mine, Annie-gal?" asked Mark, swinging from his saddle.
Annie bit her lip, eyeing the stallion doubtfully. This was a snag she and Britches had not foreseen when they rode into
Guthrie meaning to find somebody to rob as proof for Doolin of their capabilities. Of course, they had not thought of kidnapping anybody, either. The idea came to them after they left town meaning to merely hold Mark up and empty his wallet. Then Annie had her brilliant idea, to pull off a more impressive, and better paying job. Now she found a problem, for her love of horses would not allow her to neglect the big stallion. Yet she could see no way out of the predicament.
"Happen 1 give my word will you unlock one cuff and let me tend to him?" Mark suggested.
For a moment Annie did not reply. She looked Mark over from head to foot, then glanced at Britches, seeking advice.
"You'll give us your solemn word not to try anything and let us fasten you soon as you're done?" Britches asked.
"As solemn as they come, and they don't come solemner," Mark replied, hoping the amusement he felt did not show.
The two girls drew away and went into a huddle, talking and throwing looks in his direction. Mark watched them, leaning against the corral rail and awaiting their decision.
"Don't you try nothing," Annie warned, taking the handcuffs key from her pants pockets.
"Ma'am!" Mark answered, drawing himself up indignantly, "if you're doubting a Southern gentleman's word—"
"Shuckens, no!" Britches put in. "We wouldn't do that."
Clearly the two girls accepted that he would keep his word, for Annie unlocked the handcuffs without taking any precautions such as handing either Mark's gunbelt which hung around her shoulders, or her own revolver, to Britches. If Mark had wished, he could have drawn the nearest of his Colts and disarmed the girls. He did not. After all, a man should ought to keep his solemn given Word to a pair of gallant lady outlaws.
After attending to his horse, Mark carried his saddle to the lean-to behind the house and hung it alongside the girls' on the burro. Then, as solemnly as Lee offering his sword to Grant at the Appomattox Courthouse, he held out his right arm and allowed Annie to secure it.
"March to the house," Annie ordered.
Grinning, Mark marched. His horse stood in one corral, the girls' mounts in the other. Annie brought her carbine and Mark's rifle along and Britches carried her carbine under her arm.
The door opened into the main room of the cabin, with a stove and cooking range to one side, a rough table and maybe half a dozen chairs as the sole furnishings. A wall split the cabin in two parts, the rear being given over to a couple of bedrooms.
Britches saw the way Mark looked around him and her cheeks flushed a little.
"This's just a lay-off place," she said. "You should oughta see our main hide-out, it's got rugs on the floor, even a pianny. Ain't that so, Annie?"
"It sure enough is," Annie agreed. "Make yourself to home, mister. We'll fix you a meal, then you can write us a note to deliver to your pappy, telling him what we aim to do to you happen he don't pay up."
She hung Mark's gunbelt on a peg by the door, and put the rifle and carbine on the racks which lined the walls. A happy smile came to Cattle Annie's face. It sure would be great to show Bill and the boys that they could handle their share of the business.
For almost an hour Fatso Kinnear had been cursing the man who laid him low after rough-handling him. While it never was much to look at, his fat face had an ashy greenish shade which made it even more repulsive.
His partner did not say much, though less from a spirit of Christian forgiving of his enemies than because his swollen jaw did not make for easy talking. So he stood scratching his long, shaggy hair and thinking on much the same lines as Kinnear spoke.
The two bounty hunters stood in the cheap livery stable which doubled as a place to leave their horses and a hotel room for themselves. True Guthrie was a fair sized city with several hotels and rooming houses, but every one appeared to be booked up solid when the two bounty hunters arrived asking for a place to sleep while in town. On hearing of their
problem, the owner of the livery barn generously offered to allow them to sleep in an empty stall mostly used for penning his pigs.
"How about the smell?" Rushton had asked when presented with the magnanimous offer.
"Don't worry," the owner replied. "The pigs won't mind it."
Rushton still did not know how to take the remark.
"I'll kill that big blond feller, see if I don't!" Kinnear snarled, showing a remarkable lack in inventive powers as he had made the threat at least six times. "You see if I don't."
At that moment the third member of their evil organisation entered the barn and slouched towards the two men. He came silently, for he wore Indian moccasins. Nor did the Indian motif end there. His fringed buckskins smelled like a Kiowa lodge and had been greased and smoke blackened to a pitch where they could be located when down-wind—and upwind too, happen a man had a delicate nose. His face bore the high cheekbones, the slightly hooked nose and slit-eyed look of an Indian, yet had a sickly pallor. Sunset Charlie Mallalieu's mother had been an Osage Indian who even the Osages regarded as being beyond the pale; his father, a white of French birth, although he always celebrated a festival called Yom Kippur. The half-breed inherited the worst characteristics of both races and none of their good points.
"I found-um something," he said, hitching up hisgunbelt, with its Beals Navy revolver at the right and Bowie knife at the left side.
"Who?" asked Kinnear.
"Those two gals who ride wit' Doolin. I found out who they is from Injun feller. Him say they gals who ride with Doolin all right."
"Got mon' on 'em?" mumbled Rushton.
By this he did not ask if the girls carried money on their persons, but if any interested law-enforcement body
had offered a reward for their capture dead or alive, preferably the first.
"No. Them gals not impo't' enough," Mallalieu replied.
"Then why in hell are you coming bothering us?" demanded Kinnear; his stomach seemed to be trying to crawl
up his throat as he caught a whiff of the half-breed's stench.
"Them leave town. I see-um go. Maybe-so they go to Doolin's hide-out."
Instantly the other two sat up and took notice. Bill Doolin and his bunch carried big money on their heads. Higher than Kinnear and co. had ever made, for they tended to be coyotes rather than buffalo-wolves in their line. If their financial situation had been better they might have passed up going after the Doolin gang as far too risky. But, as Kinnear and Rushton were all too painfully aware, beggars could not be choosers.
"Word has-um that Doolin and his boys away on raid," Mallalieu went on. "Maybe them gals lead us to-um straggler."
"Yeah," muttered Rushton. "They could at that. Let's go see."
They took their horses and belongings, slipped out of town and Mallalieu pointed out the girls' tracks. At first the half-breed found no difficulty in following the trail of the two horses. He led the way to where they left their horses among the trees and read the story left by their feet. It appeared that the girls had set up a hold-up on the trail, although none of the trio could think why, nor could they decide why the man the girls stopped should accompany them into the trees.
"Looks like they met up with the feller to take him back to their hide-out," Kinnear remarked.
"Let's take after him," Rushton replied, speaking with difficulty.
However, tracking the three horses became more difficult once they left the trees behind. Although Mallalieu could cling to the trail, it took good and careful sign-reading to do so, and good and careful sign-reading could not be done at a gallop. Their slow rate of progress did nothing to improve Kinnear's and Rushton's tempers, for it prevented them from getting close enough to even see their prospective victims. Had they done so their plan of action would have been simple yet effective; sneak up when the three riders were bedded down for the night and pour a volley of rifle fire from the darkness into the sleeping camp.
"No see-um tracks any more," Mallalieu announced.
"Leave it until daylight then," Kinnear answered. "We'll camp here and move on at dawn."
The first light of dawn found them with a problem. Rushton's jaw was so swollen that he could barely speak a coherent word. Yet he did not trust the other two enough to allow them to go on without him. They rode on and came to a wide valley with steep slopes covered with rocks, bushes and trees. Here Mallalieu drew his horse to a halt and cocked his head on one side, listening.
"They close," he said.
Kinnear swung from his saddle and drew the rifle from the boot. He saw the other two had followed his lead and nodded his head.
"Let's move in and take a look," he said.
Give them their due, Cattle Annie and Little Britches might be no more than a couple of fool kids playing at being outlaws, but they sure could whomp up a mess of hog-jowls and mustard greens fit to set before a king.
Mark ate well, despite the handicap of being handcuffed and having his ankles roped together in an effective hobble which would not permit him to walk at anything faster than a snail's pace. In payment for his meal Mark entertained the girls with jokes and stories, keeping them laughing and making a favourable impression on them both. He noticed the way Britches studied his great spread of shoulders and slim waist with interest. And, although she tried to hide it, Annie was taking in his handsome features, noticing the virile, vital health of his giant physique. This did not surprise Mark, for he was used to attracting the interested looks of females.
With the supper done, Mark suggested he helped Britches wash the dishes. He sensed rather than saw Annie watching them. The elder girl grunted her disapproval as Mark, seemingly by accident, bumped into Britches who began to giggle. When the dishes were done Annie told Britches to watch the big feller and walked from the cabin.
"Ain't she the bossy one though?" grinned Mark.
"Yeah!" agreed Britches. "Ain't she?"
Only she did not grin and there was a hint of annoyance in
her eyes. They said no more until the other girl entered and spread Mark's bedroll on the floor by the wall.
"You sleep there, big boy," she ordered. "I'll stand the first night herd on him, Britches."
"Reckon we need to?" Britches replied suspiciously.
"Sure we need to. We'll look real fools if he sneaks off in the night."
For a moment the desire to go to bed and suspicion of Annie's motives warred on Britches's pretty little face. Then she turned and headed for the bedroom door, turning towards Annie as she reached it.
"Mind you call me for my watch!" she warned. "I'll leave the door open in case you need help."
An angry frown creased Annie's face as she watched Britches's fat little rump disappear into the bedroom, but she did not reply. Instead she began to tidy up the cabin, while Mark remained seated at the table. After finishing her tidying, Annie took the two carbines and cleaned them. By the time she had finished, the bubbling snores coming from the bedroom told her Little Britches was asleep.
"She snores worse'n a hawg at times," Annie remarked, bringing the coffee-pot from the stove. "Are you all right?"
"I've been more comfortable."
"Shuckens, you can lie down if you like."
"The night's young. I'd rather sit and talk."
"Always say a man talks better with a coffee-cup in his hands," she replied. "What do you want to talk about?"
"Weather, if you like."
"Whether I will, or whether I won't?" snapped Annie.
"The thought had crossed my mind," grinned Mark. "What'd be the answer?"
"That depends on who asked."
"Me, I'm asking."
"Bill and the boys'll be back by night time tomorrow, happen everything goes smooth," Annie said, speaking rapidly as she changed the subject. "Won't they be surprised when they find you here?"
Surprised was not the word Mark would have used.
"How come you to get tied in with Bill and his bunch?" he asked.
It all began when the Doolin gang paid a courtesy call to the small village where Cattle Annie and Little Britches lived, the girl explained. The outlaws came to attend a wedding and dance. They intrigued the local kids and made themselves pleasant to the citizens for Doolin knew the value of good public-relations even though he had never heard of them.
To the youngsters of the area Doolin's gang carried an aura of glamour. But Annie McDougall and Jennie Stevens did more than just sit back and watch from afar. When Doolin's gang rode out of the town, the two girls took their horses and borrowed men's clothing and followed. Once Doolin chased them back, but they tagged along and showed up at his hide-out. After that Doolin could hardly risk allowing them to go back.
So they became Cattle Annie and, from the way she filled her pants, Little Britches. They were accepted as the mascots of the gang, for Doolin's bunch had a string of good fortune starting from their arrival. The outlaws treated them with kindness, protected them, and taught them a number of things girls from honest, God-fearing homes only rarely learned about; such as how to handle a rifle or a revolver and how to take care of themselves by using their fists instead of hair yanking. This latter had come in useful when one of the gang brought a calico-cat along to the hide-out and she would not leave after he grew tired of her. It fell on the two girls to take the errant female out and show her the light.
True, Annie went on, Bill had never yet let them ride on a raid, but she bet he would when she and Britches handed him the ransom money from Mark's father.
They talked on for a time and then Annie rose, walked around the table to sit on Mark's lap and wrap her arms around his neck. She crushed her mouth up to his, kissing him with what she fondly imagined to be more passion than he had ever before come
up against in a woman.
"How was that?" she asked, releasing him.
"Not bad at all," Mark replied. "How's about turning me loose so I can sample it properly?"
For a moment he thought she would. Interest, eagerness and anticipation flickered across her face, to be wiped out in an expression of fear almost. She showed the sort of reaction
a man on his first visit to a cat-house might have as he approached the door, then saw one of his neighbours coming along the street.
Gently Mark put his hands on her leg and she sprang to her feet, moving hurriedly away from him.
"Oh sure!" she said, breathing heavily. "I unfasten you and the next thing 1 know is you're headed out of here."
Mark let it go at that. He started to rise and the girl took a hurried pace to the rear. Dropping her hand, she drew the Navy Colt. Mark ignored the move. Turning his back to the girl, he walked across to his bedroll and settled down on it as comfortably as possible to get some sleep.
After a time Mark rolled over and looked to where Annie sat at the table. She had stoked up the stove and range, now she sat with her head rested on her folded arms, fast asleep. Slowly Mark rose, taking up one of his blankets. He went to the girl's side and draped the blanket over her shoulders. Then, grinning to himself, he returned to his bed.
There did not appear to be any point in escaping at the moment, leaving a snug cabin and having to spend the night out on the open range. So Mark went to sleep. One thing he did know. He was not fixing to be around when Bill Doolin came back from the raid and before he left he intended to take a couple of desperate lady outlaws and paddle some sense into their heads, via their seats.
Long practice on trail drives and at other times when setting a watch had been necessary woke Mark. He looked at the clock on the wall, saw it to show time that Britches should take over his "guard". Sitting up he began to cough, it took a few loud barks before Annie opened her eyes and sat up. She threw off the blanket and reached for her gun as Mark rose to his feet.
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