by J. T. Edson
‘It’s possible,’ Plunkett pointed out.
‘Then why would Clay send those two fellers after her?’
‘I told you, he’s a coming man politically. Having it known that his son got up to bug—such games could lose him a helluva lot of support and might even ruin his career. So the last thing he wants is to have a witness around who saw it.’
‘Then I might not have killed him after all?’ Becky gasped.
‘Like I said,’ Plunkett replied. ‘It’s possible.’
‘Then why would his father have sent Shipley and Archer after me?’ the girl asked. ‘If you’re right in what you think, the last thing he would want is for me to be fetched back.’
‘According to you, they hadn’t been sent to take you back,’ the doctor reminded. ‘He not only doesn’t want you there, you know too much for him to even want you left alive.’
‘What Doc’s saying makes good sense to me,’ Brackley declared. ‘Which means you’ll never be safe anywhere in Missouri. Do you have kin some other place you can go to? ’
‘I’ve an aunt somewhere in Texas,’ the girl replied. ‘But I’ve no idea where exactly.’
‘We’re headed for Texas,’ the former wrestler stated. ‘So why don’t you come along with me and the Troupe?’
Once again, the girl found herself considering the good points of the offer. Not only would she be supplied with transportation and companionship while continuing to travel, but she was convinced accepting would prove financially beneficial. Before leaving the saloon, she had been given her share of the collection taken whilst she was unconscious. Although she was informed that the full amount was to be divided amongst all the wrestlers, as would the result of similar collections after each other bout, the sum had been higher than the twenty dollars quoted by Brackley on their first meeting. Furthermore, regardless of the considerable exertion and suffering which engaging in the bout had entailed, she had found the appreciation she earned from the spectators most stimulating and satisfying.
However, Becky also remembered her reason for deciding to decline the first time the offer was made and felt it was still valid!
‘I still don’t like the idea of getting you mixed up in my troubles,’ the girl objected. ‘Robert Clay isn’t a man to forgive and forget. He’s going to keep having me hunted.’
‘With his hired men dead, it’ll be two or three days at the soonest before he finds out what happened,’ Plunkett countered, realizing Brackley had offered a good solution to the problem. Much as he admired the girl for the way in which she had handled what must have been a most trying situation, he knew she would have a far better chance of continued survival if she accepted the offer. ‘You’ll be heading for Arkansas by the time he can get anybody else on your trail and I’ll do all lean to steer them off the wrong way by claiming you’ve gone West.’
‘But that will get Mr. Clay angry at you!’ Becky pointed out.
‘I reckon I’ve got enough friends around and about for him to think more than twice about making fuss for me,’ the doctor answered, exuding confidence. ‘And if you’ll be ruled by me, Miss Ingraham, you’ll go along with Pug and the Troupe. They’re all good folks and they’ll stand by you no matter who Clay sends and might catch up with you.’
‘You can count on that,’ Brackley asserted, his liking for the girl having increased as he listened to how competently she had behaved in the terrifying state of affairs with which she had been confronted. ‘Come with us and, even if you can’t find your aunt in Texas, by the time you get there you’ll have saved enough money to take you well beyond Clay’s reach if you’re so minded.’
‘Very well,’ Becky assented, after turning the matter over in her mind for a few seconds and concluding she was being given a chance which was unlikely to be bettered. ‘You’ve got yourself another wrestler, Mr. Brackley.’ Seeing the glances of relief and satisfaction passed between the men, she managed to put a more light-hearted timbre into her voice and went on, ‘What am I going to be, a Duchess, Countess, or Lady?’
Four – Indians!
There was no sign of anybody other than the three male and all but one female members of the International Troupe of Lady Wrestlers in the vicinity of the clearing by the banks of a stream on which they had made camp the previous night. Nevertheless, an arrow came from amongst the fairly dense fringe of flowering dogwood bushes and buried itself almost fletching deep in the massive chest of Horace ‘Pug’ Brackley. The hoarse cry of pain which burst from him as he was spun around was echoed by other noises.
On seeing what had happened from the opposite side of the trail, Becky Ingraham coming to a halt at the edge of the undergrowth in which she had been answering the call of nature, concluded that certain suspicions she had had were being confirmed in no uncertain fashion!
Almost two years had passed since the events of the night in St. Joseph, Missouri, which had resulted in the girl joining the Troupe!
Despite it being a way of life so different from anything Becky had known previously, she had never regretted the decision!
As the girl had expected, there had been more to the work than just appearing in the wrestling bouts!
Although Brackley always had arrangements made for them to stay in rooms at a boarding house when they were appearing in a town, the Troupe travelled from place to place in their own transportation. The two wagons used by them were the type known as ‘prairie schooners’. Designed to carry a maximum load of around two thousand, five hundred pounds, with tires not more than two to three inches in width, they were somewhat smaller than the massive Conestogas used by companies engaged in hauling bulk freight. Nevertheless, each was constructed with sufficient dimensions to carry their personal belongings and the necessary equipment for the bouts.
Regardless of the weather when travelling, which anyway grew milder the further the Troupe had moved southwards, their living conditions on the trail were not as bad as might have been expected. In addition to providing adequate mobile accommodation for the party, the white canvas canopies which helped to create the popular name for the vehicle offered a good measure of protection against inclement elements. Being built for the purpose, guided by the knowledge of the essential requirements acquired by the makers, such wagons were ideally suited to the needs of people travelling across the often considerable distances over roads which were generally poor—often being comprised of little more than the wheel tracks of previous users—between towns west of the Mississippi River.
Everybody was expected to lend a hand with the various chores of their nomadic existence. These had included repairing damage to their costumes, taking care of the horses which pulled their wagons, maintaining the vehicles, cooking meals when travelling and helping to erect the ring wherever the bouts were to take place.
Being of an adaptable, friendly nature and showing she was willing to take her full share of the work, the girl had had no difficulty in gaining the acceptance and friendship of her travelling companions. She had been taken under the wing of Annie ‘Lady Lavinia of Sheffield, England’ Tolcher, but all the others were equally amicable. On learning she had been a schoolteacher, far from resenting her superior education, the women had been willing to make use of it. She had often been asked to read what was said about the bouts in local newspapers, sometimes having to act as pacifier of ruffled tempers when the comments were less than flattering or even adverse. Another task which earned friendship and approbation had been, without flouting her superior education, to write letters for those who could not to their respective kinfolk. Ever willing to exercise her mind, she had passed more of her leisure time in trying to increase her knowledge by learning their languages. Of them all, she had become most proficient in the lessons she received in return for improving the English spoken by ‘Dona Conchita Alvarez of Madrid, Spain’.
The time was to come when the knowledge of Spanish acquired by Becky was to be very helpful!
From the beginning of their association, in spite of h
er concern over the possibility of her affairs bringing danger to her companions, Becky had been determined to repay Brackley for his kindness by becoming a worthwhile member of the Troupe!
The desire had been fulfilled!
Possessing excellent physical health and helped by her unconventional childhood training, Becky had quickly learned to employ all the ‘tricks of the trade’ and developed a few of her own. Not only had she been a regular participant in the rehearsed and, to a certain extent, staged bouts with the other members—generally posing as an unconnected challenger rather than a supposed scion of the European aristocracy—but it was not long before she was considered good enough to take her turn at meeting some of the genuine local contenders to come their way. In spite of the lack of skill possessed by such opponents, or rather because of it, these events often developed into serious and violent fights. However, she had found she was able to cope with such events. Like her companions, she had the advantage of more skill acquired by constant training, and greater physical fitness due to the daily routine of exercises Brackley insisted upon being carried out. As the genuine challengers either lacked these qualities, or possessed them to a lesser extent, she had always emerged victorious.
Even when suffering the after-effects of having taken on an aggressive local challenger, which were invariably more severe than those acquired in contention against the other members of the troupe, the girl had considered time was passing in a satisfying and far from unenjoyable fashion!
Nor had the threat which Becky feared arisen!
Much to the girl’s relief, as time passed following her departure from St. Joseph, no further pursuers sent by Robert Clay had put in an appearance. Nor had another eventuality she envisaged occurred. When the successors of Milton Shipley and Bernard Archer reported failure to produce the desired result, knowing him to be vicious and vindictive, she had thought he was unlikely to give up his desire to have her silenced. Instead of continuing to rely upon local and unofficial means to bring this about, which were costly and proving ineffectual, he might enlist properly appointed law enforcement officers to the task of locating and capturing her, with the intention of ensuring she did not live long enough to reach Surbiton for trial.
On Becky having confided her supposition with Brackley, he had said he did not believe there was any cause for concern. Even if there should be a warrant for her arrest issued by the local constable at Clay’s instigation, she would be moving further away during the time which would elapse while it was being circulated to other law enforcement agencies. Furthermore, once the Troupe entered Arkansas—because of a general disinclination towards cooperation, due to the peace officers in each State being comprised of supporters of the ‘North’ and ‘South’ in the continually worsening political situation—she would have little to fear from a warrant originating in Missouri.
Either the assumption had proven to be the case, or—as he had promised—Doctor Oswald Plunkett had been successful in throwing any hired seekers after vengeance off her trail so effectively that Clay had concluded there was no longer any way of having the cause of his animosity located and killed!
Whichever the reason, the girl was not subjected to any further attempts at revenge!
By the time the Troupe had reached Texas, Becky was a competent and popular performer. Although she had made a few inquiries about the aunt she believed to be living in the State, she was not distressed when these produced no results. Instead, despite having become convinced she was no longer being hunted by the law or Clay’s hirelings, she had been pleased to have a reason for staying with her friends. Not only did she find their company congenial and the acclaim she received when in the ring most gratifying, it was also a more profitable way of making a living than being a schoolteacher. In addition to providing excellent entertainment, being a novelty, they had drawn good crowds everywhere they went and the collections ‘for the gallant loser’ were well supported. Brackley was a generous employer and, as she had few expenses to meet, she was building up a useful nest egg against the day when she decided to settle down in a more conventional employment.
Following most lucrative appearances in several North Texas’ towns, the Troupe were on the trail to Fort Worth; where they had been assured that equally enthusiastic and generous audiences would be found. They were travelling alone, but this had generally been the case and none of them were unduly worried by the lack of company. Ever watchful for their welfare, Brackley had asked the marshal of the last town they had visited about the dangers they might encounter. He had been informed that, being a well-armed party, they should not run into any difficulties. There were outlaws, but these preferred easier prospects than a group of people obviously well able to take care of themselves. Raising the matter of another possible threat, he was assured that—due to the punitive activities of the United States’ Cavalry and the Texas Rangers—there had been no Indians along the route they would be following for at least five years.
Having covered about half of the distance to their next destination and halted the previous evening at a spot much used by travelers along the trail, the Troupe had been preparing to continue the journey. While Lady Lavinia was helping the men to hitch up the four-horse teams, the rest of the woman had been doing the other work involved in breaking camp. On completing her chores, Becky had crossed the trail to relieve herself in the bushes at the other side.
As usual when the Troupe were not accompanied by other people and were travelling during the appropriate climatic conditions, the girl was clad in the same general fashion as her female companions. Although none of them would have thought of dressing that way when other people were present, it was utilitarian attire for wearing in pleasant weather and well suited to the needs of an active life, but also flattering to each figure and appearance.
Apart from her footwear, Becky’s clothing comprised of only three garments. A snugly fitting cheap white cotton blouse with its neck unfastened and sleeves rolled up was all that covered her torso. To offer extra mobility and let it be easily removed or donned, her skirt was improvised from a length of black material. It was wrapped around and fastened at her waist. Below, its sides overlapped so that decorum was retained even though an unconnected flap was formed at the front. Beneath it, she had on a pair of the black tights and cloth sandals she wore when in the ring.
Even before she had set off into the undergrowth, Becky’s instincts had suggested something was wrong. While she was drawing up the tights and fastening the waistband of the skirt about her midriff, having been born and grown up in the country, although further north and east than her present location, she had realized what she felt to be amiss. Being so soon after sunrise on a bright and warm late spring morning, she would have expected the surrounding woodland to be ringing with the calls of birds. However, while she could hear some singing in the distance, everything was silent in the immediate vicinity. What was more, despite having failed to obtain any visual verification, she had had the feeling of being watched while starting back towards the trail.
The arrow which struck Brackley and what happened next indicated beyond any shadow of a doubt to Becky that her misgivings were justified!
Before any of the party near the wagons could recover from the surprise caused by seeing their manager struck in such a fashion, several Indians burst into view from amongst the bushes flanking two sides of the clearing. Anybody better versed in such matters than were the members of the Troupe would have known from the style and decorations of their attire that they were Kiowas. All were wearing war paint and, although none were carrying firearms, they held more primitive—albeit, equally effective in their hands—weapons of various other kinds. Giving whoops intended to frighten their proposed victims into immobility, making the counting of coups easier, they charged towards the white people.
‘Indians!’ screeched Dona Conchita, an avid reader of sensational literature whether in newspapers or the more lurid cheap ‘blood and thunder’ fiction of the day, turning f
rom where she had been about to pour the remains from the coffeepot on to the dying campfire.
‘Sauvages dangereux!’ ‘Vicomtesse Fifi de Versailles, France’ screamed in the same breath, always more ready than the others to revert to her native tongue in moments of stress, letting fall the two bed rolls she was carrying towards the wagons.
‘Holy, Mother of God!’ echoed ‘Duchess Molly of Connemara, Ireland’, dropping the large wooden box filled with cooking utensils she was carrying.
Regardless of the shock they too had received, the rest of the group in the clearing did not react vocally!
However, to give them their due, even the three who spoke recovered from the frightening surprise quickly enough to respond before they could be reached by their attackers.
The next few minutes were filled with violent and confused action!
Nor were the casualties restricted to the white people!
In fact, the attack was far from being the unopposed massacre—apart from such of the women taken alive for the pleasure of the braves before being killed—which the raiding party was anticipating!
Since leaving St. Joseph, following the example of Brackley—who was prevented from making use of his—Percy Pulbright and Sidney Colkiss had taken to carrying a Colt Model of 1851 Navy Belt Pistol revolver readily accessible on their persons at all times. Originally these had been intended mainly for the protection of Becky should she be found by Clay’s men, but they had continued to be worn as the terrain being traversed had become increasingly more sparsely populated. Although neither man could have laid claim to being the equal of James Butler Hickok, they had practiced enough to possess some skill in handling the weapons.
Unlike their male companions, none of the female members of the party were carrying weapons. Although two of them sought to rectify the situation by arming themselves, the rest in the clearing were compelled to rely upon their bare hands to try to fight off their attackers. This did not mean any proved to be a helpless victim. They were, after all, well trained in defending themselves with bare hands and started to put their knowledge into effect instead of merely surrendering to their fate.