The Floating Outfit 35

by J. T. Edson

  ‘Who was it, Simmy?’ the blonde asked, in a relaxed, comradely manner that implied she made her living entertaining men.

  ‘Ben Columbo, Joey Pinter, Heck Smith and Topple,’ the mayor replied.

  ‘I figured somebody’d get around to them,’ the blonde said calmly, looking at Dusty. ‘Did you take Columbo out?’

  ‘He sure did, ma’am,’ Waco enthused. ‘Along of Pinter ’n’ Topple. Getting a regular hawg that ways, Brother Ed is. Didn’t leave but that Smith hombre to lil me.’

  ‘If you burned down Heck Smith, you’d best watch out for his brothers. One of them’s a limping, scar-faced runt,’ the blonde warned. ‘The other two look like Heck, only older, dirtier and meaner.’

  ‘I’ll mind it, ma’am,’ Waco promised, ogling the woman’s richly endowed frame with frank, juvenile admiration.

  ‘You’re new here,’ the blonde hinted, ignoring the youngster and directing the words to Dusty.

  ‘This is Edward and Matthew Caxton, and Alvin Blood, Emma,’ the mayor introduced. ‘Gentlemen, may I present Miss Emma Nene, the owner of the Honest Man.’

  ‘Right pleased to know you, ma’am,’ Dusty said.

  ‘We’ve been expecting you,’ Emma Nene declared. ‘Hey! Seeing how you boys made wolf-bait of them four lame-headed yacks, the drinks are on me tonight.’

  ‘Then we’ll be in there, a-drinking free, regular ’n’ plentiful, ma’am,’ Waco assured her. ‘’Cause we done got every last blasted one of ’em.’

  ‘Shall we take these gentlemen to your office, Simeon?’ Giselle suggested, her voice and attitude showing that she did not like the blonde.

  ‘Of course,’ Lampart agreed. ‘If you’ll excuse us, Emma—?’

  ‘Why not,’ the blonde answered. ‘The shooting woke me up, but I reckon I can get to sleep again. Don’t you boys forget to come around tonight, mind.’

  ‘Ma’am,’ Waco declared fervently, keeping his gaze fixed on the valley between the hillocks of her breasts. ‘You just couldn’t keep us away.’

  Walking on, Dusty was conscious of the blonde’s eyes following him. The party turned along the alley separating the saloon from what was apparently the Lamparts’ home as well as his place of business. The front door opened into a pleasantly decorated hall. To the left, a sign of the door in the center of the wall announced ‘Mayor’s Office’ and at the right was the entrance to Lampart’s second room in which, apparently, he carried out his duties as attorney-at-law. Excusing herself, with a dazzling smile at Dusty, Giselle disappeared through a curtain-draped opening leading to the rear half of the building. Lampart opened up the mayor’s chambers and waved the Texans to enter.

  As Dusty passed through the doorway, he noticed the thickness of the interior wall. He concluded that, if those on the outside were equally sturdy, the room would be secure from unwanted visitors. That view was increased by the stout timbers of the door and heavily barred windows. The room itself proved to be a comfortable, but functional, place of business. In its center, a large desk faced the door. On its otherwise empty top, an ivory-handled Colt Civilian Peacemaker lay conveniently placed for the right hand of anybody who sat behind the desk. The reason for the cocked revolver and sturdy fittings might be found in the steel bound oak boxes which formed a line along two of the walls.

  While his guests were setting down their saddles and freeing the moneybags, Lampart drew three chairs to the front of the desk. He waved the trio to sit down and went to occupy the chair behind the desk, but kept his right hand well away from the revolver.

  ‘Now, gentlemen,’ Lampart said, producing a box of cigars from the right side drawer and offering it to Dusty. ‘You will understand that, as mayor of this somewhat special community, I must ask questions which might sound impolite.’

  ‘Ask ahead,’ Dusty authorized, accepting a cigar. He opened the left bag and took a copy of the Texas State Gazette from it. ‘This’ll tell you the parts Sheriff Butterfield couldn’t get on his message.’

  While Lampart examined the paper, Dusty, the Kid and Waco lit up their cigars. After a short time, the mayor raised his eyes and nodded.

  ‘This clears up some of the details, but there are others which require further clarification.’

  ‘Fire them at us,’ offered Dusty.

  ‘Since bringing Hell into being, I have, naturally, gained considerable knowledge of outlaws in Texas, New Mexico and the Indian Nations. Yet I have never heard any of your names mentioned.’

  ‘That figures. Matt, Comanch’ and I’ve never pulled a robbery afore this one. But it was too good a chance to miss.’

  ‘You must have been fortunate to have met this Sergeant Magoon,’ Lampart remarked, tapping the paper with his forefinger.

  ‘Not all the way,’ Dusty objected. ‘Sure, it was lucky meeting him at the right time. But we’d knowed him afore when we joined the Cavalry. Fact being, we’d done one of those payroll deliveries, afore they got wise to the boy’s real age and talked about heaving him out. We all quit afore they could do it. Then one night we met Magoon m a saloon. He was drunk and talking mean about the Army, ’cause they’d passed him over for top-sergeant. While he was bellyaching about it, he let enough slip for me to figure he was on one of the escorts. We got him more liquor and talked him ’round to our way of thinking. After that, it was easy. We knew where, when and how to hit.’

  ‘And Magoon?’

  ‘Once a talker, allus a talker’s how I see it. Happen we’d given him a share, he’d’ve got stinking drunk and bawled it to the world what he’d done. So we dropped him.’

  ‘Only the bastard’d already done some lip-flapping,’ Waco put in indignantly. ‘That’s how the Rangers got on to us so quick.’

  ‘It’s possible,’ Lampart said noncommittally. ‘How did you know about Hell?’

  ‘Man learns more than soldiering in the Army,’ Dusty replied. ‘Was a feller who’d been on the dodge and he told us about it. So, soon’s we heard the Rangers knowed us, we came on up here.’

  ‘But how did you avoid the Indians and our scouts, and find the town?’

  ‘Comanch’ was raised Injun,’ Waco answered. ‘He brought us through’s easy’s falling off a log.’

  ‘Not all that easy, boy,’ Dusty objected. ‘Fact being, we had some luck in doing it. We traveled by night all the time until we found the tracks of shod horses. Allowed they must be coming here and followed them in.’

  ‘What made you suspect Butterfield?’ Lampart wanted to know.

  ‘He dresses a heap too well for a John Law in a one-hoss county,’ Dusty replied. ‘Saw the pigeons on the way in and found out who they belonged to. The rest was easy. Somebody was paying him good, and it wasn’t the citizens of Cottle County. So it near on had to be you folks in Hell, having him pass the word about anything’s happened or owlhoots headed your way.’

  ‘That’s shrewd thinking,’ Lampart praised.

  ‘Are you satisfied with us now?’ Dusty inquired.

  ‘I am, although I may ask you to supply further details or to clear up a few points later.’

  ‘That’s all right with us,’ Dusty declared.

  ‘Then there is only one thing more to be settled,’ Lampart announced. ‘The matter of payment for the benefits we offer you.’

  ‘How much’d that come to?’ Waco asked suspiciously.

  ‘One tenth of your loot,’ Lampart said, with the air of expecting to hear protests.

  ‘A tenth?’ Waco yelped, acting his part with customary skill.

  ‘That’s a fair price,’ Dusty drawled.

  ‘Fair!’ Waco spat back. ‘Hell, Brother Ed, that’s—’

  ‘Your brother is aware of the advantages, young man,’ Lampart said calmly. ‘If I know the Army, much of the paper money is in new, easily-traced bills.’

  ‘Yeah,’ the youngster mumbled. ‘It is!’

  ‘So there is nowhere in Texas, or even in the whole country, where you can chance spending it for some considerable time to come,’ L
ampart enlarged. ‘If you tried, you’d bring the law down on your heads. One tenth is a small price to pay for your safety, and that is what you get for your money. Not only safety. Here, you can find girls, gambling, drinking, clothing. Everything in fact that you committed the robbery to get. And without needing to watch over your shoulder while you’re enjoying them.’

  ‘And when the money’s gone?’ Dusty asked.

  ‘You will be faced with the same solution to that as would await you anywhere else,’ Lampart replied. ‘Work for, or steal, some more. Our guides will take you out by the Kweharehnuh so that you can do it. Occasionally, we are in a position to suggest further—employment—to men we can trust to come back.’

  ‘You’re saying we can stay here, whooping it up, as long’s our money lasts out,’ drawled the Kid. ‘Then we get told to leave?’

  ‘Of course we don’t tell you to leave,’ objected Lampart. ‘Unfortunately, supplies cost us more than they would in an ordinary town. So the chances of obtaining charity are correspondingly smaller. And no man of spirit likes to live on hand-outs, does he?’

  ‘Way you put it, the deal sounds reasonable to me,’ commented the Kid. ‘Do we go in on the pot, Ed?’

  ‘We go in,’ Dusty confirmed. ‘Count out ten thousand dollars and give it to his honor, Brother Matt.’

  ‘You say so, Brother Ed,’ Waco muttered. ‘Lend me a hand, Comanch’.’

  ‘Where can we bed down, sir?’ Dusty said as his companions started to count out pads of new bills.

  ‘At the hotel,’ the mayor suggested. ‘You’ll find it at the other end of the street to the livery barn. There’s sure to be at least two empty rooms. But the prices are high—’

  ‘Same’s at the barn!’ grunted Waco, stopping counting.

  ‘And for the same reason,’ Dusty pointed out. ‘These folks here have a whole slew of expenses other towns don’t.’

  ‘That’s true,’ agreed Lampart, eyeing Dusty in a calculating manner. ‘If you wish, gentlemen, you may leave the bulk of your money here. In one of those boxes, to which you alone will have the keys. You can, of course, draw it out as and when you need it.’

  ‘That’s a smart notion,’ Dusty declared, silencing Waco’s protest before it could be made. With the youngster scowling in a convincingly suspicious manner, he went on, ‘Hold back five hundred for each of us, Comanch’, and put the rest in one of the boxes.’

  ‘You trust me?’ Lampart smiled.

  ‘Why shouldn’t I?’ countered Dusty. ‘You don’t need to bother robbing us. Sooner or later, you or one of the other folks’ll get most of our money without going to that much trouble.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ Waco growled.

  ‘Who else do we spend it with while we’re here?’ Dusty asked. ‘’Sides which, setting up this place cost too much and running it’s too profitable for the folks to want it spoiling that way.’

  ‘As I have said before, Mr. Caxton,’ Lampart declared. ‘You are a most perceptive young man. Taken with your gun-savvy, that makes a formidable combination.’

  ‘Comes in handy to have it on your side, sir,’ Dusty remarked. ‘Which box do we use?’

  With the payment made, the remainder of the money was placed in one of the boxes. Dusty pocketed his five hundred dollars and the keys. Going to the door, Lampart opened it and his wife entered carrying a tray.

  ‘Mr. Caxton and his friends will be staying, my dove,’ the mayor said.

  ‘Good,’ Giselle answered, pouring out cups of coffee.

  While drinking and making idle conversation, they heard the front door open. Going to investigate, Lampart returned with two of the men who had been in the barn. He introduced them as Manny Goldberg, the owner of the hotel, and Jean le Blanc, the barber. Middle-sized and Gallic-looking, le Blanc started to talk.

  ‘I have seen Pinter’s gang and they are not concerned with avenging his death. Money is short with them and they are considering leaving; have been wanting to for the past few days, but he wouldn’t go. Topple’s leader is more relieved than angry as he was getting ambitious and, with Columbo’s backing, might have taken over the gang.’

  ‘That leaves Columbo’s bunch,’ Dusty drawled.

  ‘They are the Smith brothers,’ le Blanc replied. ‘At the moment, all three are at Dolly’s whore-house and too drunk to cause you any trouble. But you must walk warily in their presence, mes braves.’

  ‘They can walk warily ’round us,’ Waco snorted truculently.

  ‘How does the town stand on it, happen we have to take their toes up, Mr. Lampart?’ Dusty wanted to know.

  ‘We let our visitors settle such matters amongst themselves,’ the mayor replied. ‘Beyond the city limits for preference. There’s a hollow in which duels can be fought without endangering civic property or innocent bystanders.’

  ‘Happen they want it that way, we’ll go there with them,’ Dusty said. ‘But the first move’ll come from them. You hear me, Comanch’, Brother Matt?’

  ‘I hear,’ grunted the Kid.

  ‘You, Brother Matt?’ Dusty demanded, a grimmer timbre creeping into his voice.

  ‘All right,’ Waco answered in a grudgingly resigned tone. ‘I hear you.’

  Interested eyes studied the trio as they left the mayor’s house and walked along the street to the hotel, but nobody interfered with them in any way. They had been told by Goldberg to go and ask for rooms, while le Blanc had put the facilities of his shop and bathhouse at their services. Walking along the center of the street, a logical precaution considering what had happened at the livery barn and the presence of Heck Smith’s brothers in town, they were able to talk without the risk of being overheard.

  ‘Lampart’s interested in you-all, Brother Ed,’ Waco drawled.

  ‘Let’s hope he stays that way,’ the Kid went on, for the plan was that they should gain the confidence of the town’s boss.

  ‘Happen he does,’ Dusty warned, ‘you pair might have to watch how you go.’

  ‘Why?’ Waco asked.

  ‘He could figure I’ll be more use to him—and safe—with you both dead,’ Dusty explained.

  Chapter Eight –It Was Me He Wanted Saving

  ‘I saw a big-pig Yankee marshal a-coming down the street,

  Got two big six-guns in his hands ’n’ looks fierce enough to eat.’

  Sitting in a cubicle of the barber’s bathhouse, the Ysabel Kid raised his pleasant tenor voice in a song guaranteed to start a fight with peace officers anywhere north of the Mason-Dixon line. As he sang, he soaped his lean brown torso with lather raised on a washcloth and let the heat of a tub full of water soothe him after the long journey. Close by, his gunbelt lay across the seat of the chair which also held a towel and his newly-bought clothes. His old garments lay on the floor where he had dropped them as he undressed.

  On their arrival at the hotel, Dusty, the Kid and Waco had been allocated quarters. Dusty would occupy a small single room and his companions share another with two double beds. The building had offered a good standard of comfort and cleanliness, which was not surprising considering that the management charged three times the normal tariff.

  With their saddles and rifles locked away, the trio had set off to buy new clothes and freshen up their appearances. The bathroom section of the barber’s premises had only two cubicles, so the Kid had allowed his companions to make use of them first. With Dusty and Waco finished and gone into the front half of the building, the Kid had taken his turn in a hot bath.

  ‘Now big-pig Yankee stay away, stay right away from me,

  I’m just one lil Texas boy ’n’ scared as I can be.’

  Having rendered the chorus, the Kid prepared to give out the second verse. He heard a soft, stealthy footfall outside the cubicle and its door began to inch open. Even as he opened his mouth to call out that it was occupied, shots thundered from the front section of the building.

  Like the hotel, the barber’s shop had furnishings and fittings worthy of any city’s high-rent
district. It offered two comfortable, well-padded leather swivel chairs, white towels and cloths. On a shelf in front of a large mirror stood bottles of lotions, hair-tonics, patent medicines and other products of the tonsorial arts.

  Lounging at ease in the right hand chair, Dusty allowed le Blanc to work on his head with combs and scissors. The barber carried out his task with a deft touch. Incompetence at his trade had not been the reason why he had settled and gone into business in Hell. Waco was in the second chair, with le Blanc’s tall, lean young assistant trimming his hair.

  Although Dusty was seated with his back to the door, the big mirror allowed him to keep watch on it. With the type of customer he catered for, le Blanc must have been compelled to have such a fitting installed. No man with a price on his head took to the notion of having people come up behind him, unless he had the means to keep an eye on them.

  All the time the scissors were clicking, Dusty kept the door under observation. That was partly caution, but also because of the interest le Blanc and the assistant showed in what was going on outside. Ever since Dusty and Waco had taken their seats, the two barbers had repeatedly glanced through the window at the far side of the street.

  ‘You wish the beard removed. M’sieur Caxton?’ le Blanc inquired as he was putting the finishing touches to Dusty’s hair.

  ‘Trim it up a mite is all,’ the small Texan replied. ‘I’ve always found the gals go for a feller with hair on his face. They want to know if it tickles when he kisses them.’

  ‘That is a very good reason,’ le Blanc smiled, throwing another look at the window and stiffening slightly. He laid his left hand on the back of the chair. ‘I will make it so that the ladies fall in love with you at first sight.’