**When I want you t—!" Du^ty began; then the others could see him make a visible effort to control his temper. '*You're right, friend. I'm sorry, Freddie."
"It toas all my fault," Freddie replied and extended hes: arms. "LordI I'd have cut my hands off at the wrists rather than have—."
"It's done with, Freddie," Dusty said in a gentle tone. Then he became cold and business-like. "How'd they get in, Sarah?"
"Now there you've got me, Cap'n," she replied, putting aside her annoyance at him for his treatment of Freddie. "The place was locked up tight when I came down. I used the key you gave me to get in.'
"Unless you took it with you, they went out of the back door, locked it from the outside and took the key along," Freddie put in. "I checked on it."
**Thanks, Freddie. Did you—^How long'd Pickles been dead when you found him, SarsJi?"
"Not long," the woman replied and her face showed emotion. "He was still warm when I—I—."
*Tou did good," Dusty assured her quietly. "Only don't go woman on me now."
"He couldn'tVe been dead for more than half an horn-,* Sarah stated. "I wasn't sure what to do, so I headed for the Fair Lady and told Miss Freddie. She did the rest"
Which, if her present condition meant anything, must have put her through hell. However Dusty held back his comments and thoughts of gratitude until a more suitable time. At that moment his sole concern was to learn all he could.
*?so fresh boss or any other land of tracks leaving town, Dust\" one of the trail bosses announced. "And I sent men on speed-bosses along ev^ery trail to see if they could learn anvthing. I'd swear they never left town by boss or wagon."
"There've been neither stage nor trains leave," the supervisor went on. "So they must be here someplace."
"Not in any empty place, w^e've looked in 'em an," stated the buffalo-hunter. "\Tiich means, unless they've done gone off in one of than balloons the Yankees used in the War, th^ must be hid in town."
While listening to every word said, Waco could not help noticing the way the different factions of the town woriced together and how they gave Dusty their willing co-operation. Faced with a crisis, the careful fair, honest effort put into enforcing the law in Mulrooney had paid off. Few oth» trail-end town marshals holding oflBce in Kansas could have claimed such a response.
After thinking on that for a moment, Waco tinned his attention to other, more important issues. Ever since Freddie held out her soft, well-cared for hands, something had gnawed at the youngster. Then memory flooded back.
"And I reckon I know where they're hid out," the yoimg-ster said, wishing only the other members of the oflBce stood listening.
**\Tiere?" Dusty dananded.
"It's only a guess, mind. But I reckon they're at that convent."
"Go on, boy," Dusty encouraged.
^There's something about that new mother superior never rode right with me. Dusty," Waco continued. "Now I know what it was."
nTiat?"
"It's her hands. Soft, white, with long nails, like she'd never done a hck of work in her life. All the other nuns woiic
too hard to have hands like that—or the ones I saw around the place did— r
K nun, even a mother superior, with soft white hands and long nails would be unusual," Freddie remarked.
"And she sure wears fancy shoes," the youngster went on, grateful for the confirmation. "I got a peek at 'em as she crossed the railer—^Hell's firel That nun with her mustVe been Tricky Dick Cansole. He walked right by us into townl"
"You're making good sense,'* Dusty told him.
^There's another thing," Waco replied. "When I was fetching them two nesters in I met her, the mother superior, out back there. She allowed to be going to see some sick folks. If it'd've been anybody but a mm, Td've fetched 'em in to tell you about it. But it being her, I took her word. She could've been talking to Smith. The morning after he started to perk up again instead of acting a mite edgy and worried."
''Ole Pickles wouldn't've opened up to anybody—^," the Kid growled. "Except somebody like a nun."
"Just like the Bad Bimchl" Mark breathed.
"Just like it," Dusty agreed, thinking back to the notorious gang which had plagued Texas, and brought him and Mark close to death before being broken up. "And likely they're still hid out in the convent, waiting for the himt to die oflf."
"Oh my God!" Freddie suddenly gasped, stiffening in her chair. "The convent—I"
"What's wrong with it?" Dusty asked.
"Every Sunday since it opened I've sent two baskets of food around, some delicacies they wouldn't have otherwise—." • "So?"
"So Babsy took them today. Ginger went along, I think to prove that she was as tough as Babsy—."
"Babsyl" Waco spat out and started to turn. "Then she might be—."
Dusty caught his hand in a tight, firm grip. "Hold hard there, boy. We don't know there's anything wrong."
"Dammit, she might be—."
"And if she is, one sight of you charging out there waving your guns could see her dead, or used as a hostage, which'd wind up the same."
Despite his concern for the little girl's safety, Waco
realised that Ehisty spoke the truth. He saw that his original plan—or intention, for no planned thought prompted his actions—^would not do.
**Ve ve got to do somethingl" the yoimgster insisted.
**And we'll make a start at doing it right now," Dusty answered "Lon, get over to the convent, only don't let tfiem know you're watching it—."
'XrCt me go," Waco requested.
T want you ^ith me," Dusty replied.
TDon t you trust me?^
"If I didn't, you'd not've started to wear that badge. I want you to go in there with me when the right time comes."
Even discounting the yoimgster's personal stake in the affair, Dusty knew him to be the best choice. With Mark still unable to make full use of his left hand, Waco stood next in revolver-shooting ability. Up close, as they must be inside the building, a handgun licked a rifle even in the Kid's highly-skilled grip.
"Sure, Dusty," Waco said contritely. "Times I talk too much."
"If it wasn't for the company you keep, Fd say you*d grow out of it," Dusty answered. "Sarah, head for the Fair Lady and see if the gaJs're back."
"Yo!" she replied, dropping into the old cavalry assent almost automatically. Then she and the Kid left the room.
"Get some of those fellers to help Frank Derringer, Gil,* Dusty said to one of the trail bosses as the buggy haltwl outside.
"It's done," came the reply and the man went to obey.
"What do we do, Dusty?" asked Waco.
"Just about the hardest thing, boy—Wait."
Any shght hope the party held for the two girls' safety died when Sarah returned with word that they had not come back to the Fair Lady.
"What now. Dusty?" asked the raiboad supervisor. "Do we smoke 'em out?"
"Only by doing it my way," die small Texan replied. T want every man you can lay hands on strung around town so tight that a gopher couldn't crawl through even in the dark. Only keep them out of sight of the convent MarkTl show you where to go."
*T,et's make a start," Mark ordered.
"If that's all you want— ," the supervisor replied.
TThe rest's up to us/' Dusty told him. "Make sure those fellers know not to come closer, Mark."
Leaving the oflBce, Mark started the organisation. While the supervisor had expected objections from the gandy-dancers to taking orders from a deputy who was also a cowhand, none came. O'Sullivan, Voigt and Rastignac collectively promised to half-kill any railroad man who failed to obey; and their threats carried weight.
*This's how I figure we'll play it," Dusty told Waco, Freddie and Sarah, Derringer being occupied with the Brownton prisoner.
"I'm the one to help you. Dusty," Freddie stated after hearing the plan. "It's my fault this happ—."
"Which doesn't worry me right now," Dusty interrupted. *Tm taking
you because I reckon you can handle it best. Can you get what you'll need?"
"Easily," she assured him. "How about you?"
"We've got all but one thing. Moccasins, our guns."
"What else do you need?" Freddie inquired.
"Lon's knife," Dusty replied and something in his voice made her shudder. "Clean your guns, boy."
"But—."^
**We can't move imtil after dark—^And you can't chance having a misfire through not taking care of your Colts," Dusty said quietly. "Get to it, and I'll do mine."
Hearing a knocking at the front door. Tricky Dick Cansole and Stella Castle looked at each other. The outlaw fitted Sheriff Bracker's description, being stylishly dressed, medium-sized and almost effeminate in appearance. However the two Webley Bulldog revolvers thrust into his waist band were deadly weapons in his long-fingered hands.
"Ill see who it is and get rid of them," Stella promised, adjusting her nim's headdress. "And you three stay in here with the door closed. If that fool Triblet hadn't been wandering aroimd, we wouldn't have this pair of calico cats on our hands."
They stood in the large room which would be the chapel, although as yet it was uncompleted. Behind them, roped to chairs and gagged, sat Babsy, Ginger, each sporting signs of their fight, and Sister Bridget. Smith came to join Cansole and Stella while the tall, gaimt owlhoot named Triblet turned from the window where he had been watching the land behind the building.
"Go to it,** Cansole ordered. **Nobody suspects that we're here."
On stepping into the entrance hall, Stella saw Sister Teresa emerge from the lower floor room where the nmis had been ordered to stay.
*Tfou make one sound, or fancy move, and they'll Idll Sister Bridget," Stella hissed, wondering how the girl had got out of the locked room.
Before taking the veil. Sister Teresa had been a criminal and had learned to pick locks from her father. While she had failed to open the nailed-to shutters at the window, she had dealt with the lock, but too slowly to reach the door and give a warning. Stella thought of ordering the girl back into the room, but decided Sister Teresa admired the big Irish nun too much to endanger her life. Having the girl in plain sight would serve to hold down any suspicions should it be men searching for the escaped prisoner.
Going along to the front door, Stella darted a glance behind her. Sister Teresa stood silent, watching, but the door to the chapel remained closed. Then Stella looked through the window beside the door. Despite her belief that nobody suspected anything, she felt just a twinge of concern at seeing law badges reflected in the light of the lamp outside.
Standing just outside, the marshal and that damned blond Idd supported a dancehall girl who appeared to be in pain. Dressed in the garish clothing of her kind, black hair untidy and bare shoulders mottled with bruises, she hung in their arms, head drooping and body sagging as she held her ribs with her hands. Behind them stood the woman deputy. As Stella opened the door, she heard the end of a conversation specially carried out for her benefit.
TDamn this slutl" Dusty was growling. "I should be out on the range with a posse, not foo—^Howdy, ma'am."
**What is it?" Stella inquired, holding down a smile at the change in tone.
"This cali—gal got hurt in the fight this morning,'* Dusty replied and Freddie accompanied the words with a sobbing moan that sounded genuine. "It was worse than they figured and she needs caring for."
"But the doctor—."
"He's had to go out to a farm, ma'am. And seeing's how this gal's one of your folk, I reckoned you'd tend to her."
"She was asking to come here and won't rest easy any other place," Sarah put in.
"But I—^We aren't a niu-sing order," Stella said hesitantly, unsure of just what kind of order the nuns might be. "Sure-
ly-r
"Folks'U reckon it*s mighty un-Christian happen you turn her away, ma'am," Dusty remarked.
True enough, but far worse to Stella's way of thinking was that a refusal might arouse the small Texan's suspicions. From what Triblet told them. Dusty Fog packed considerable savvy at his work and could not be underestimated in the thinking line. Already he had caused every building which did not have occupants searched, even before Smith's rescue, so he must suspect their presence in town. Give him reason to doubt her bona fides and she did not doubt that Dusty would come up with the right answers.
"If you don't want the fellers inside, I'll help you tote her," Sarah offered, darting a glance at Sister Teresa who was hovering in the backgroimd.
"It may be best," Stella agreed. "Once she's in, we can manage her."
From the look and sound of the 'injured* Freddie, Stella did not doubt she could prevent the other raising any outcry on learning the true state of affairs. So she stepped outside, doing what Dusty gambled she would. He saw the other occupant of the hall was a woman, guessed she did not belong to the gang and figured Stella had her there to quiet any suspicions, relying on the vow of silence or threats to keep her quiet.
Just an instant too late Stella realised her mistake. Even before she reached the trio, the men released the woman. Opening her mouth to scream a warning, Stella tried to halt her forward progress. Like a flash Freddie moved, ripping her clenched fist with all her power full into the pit of the other woman's stomach. Stella's scream finished before it started as agony knotted her body and the breath burst from her limgs.
Moving fast. Dusty shot out his hand, caught Stella and prevented her from stumbling back into the hall. With a surging heave he swung her around and backed her into the wall. Holding her erect with one hand, he reached out to take the Kid's bowie kntfe—^borrowed on their arrival—from
Sarah who had kept it concealed until the appropriate moment.
"Make one lil sound and Til mark you so bad youTl never dare face folk again!" he snarled, holding the knife's razor sharp blade close to Stella's face.
Probably no other threat could have ensured the woman's complete silence. Hurt and winded though she might be, without the menace to her beautiful features she would have chanced giving the w^aming and relied on Cansole to save her. Yet she believed that Dusty aimed to do what he said and so stood as if frozen.
"LfCt me have her, Cap'n," Sarah said.
^^Sure," Dusty answered and waited until the big woman took hold before releasing her. "Let's go, boy."
Without speaking Sister Teresa pointed out the door behind which Cansole held the hostages, then she stood watching the Texans approach it on silent feet.
Holding their guns, Dusty and Waco halted on either side of the door. Quietly Dusty stepped around in front of it, satisfied the men inside did not laiow they were there. Then he braced himself ready to perform a technique learned from Tommy Okasi. While Dusty could not equal his teacher's tameshiwari abihty in breaking wood or stone with the bare hands and feet, he felt adequate for the work to hand.
Inhaling deeply through the nose. Dusty composed himself for the effort. A glance at Waco told him the youngster stood waiting. So Dusty gave the traditional spiritual cry of "Kiai!" and drove his right foot with all his power into the door. As it burst inwards, Waco plimged through, going across to the left A moment later Dusty entered the chapel headed the other way.
For once Tricky Dick Cansole had been ov^er-confident Satisfied that the local law did not know of his presence in town, he had taken no other precautions than preventing the three prisoners from making any noise. W^hile Cansole held one of his Webleys, he did not line it at Babsy although standing at her side. Gripping a Colt, Triblet held it to Sister Bridget's head. Smith contented himself with using his good hand to cover Ginger's gagged mouth.
When the door burst open Cansole and Triblet swung their weapons towards it and Smith belatedly started to draw. However the way the Texans entered threw the outlaws off balance. Fast as a striking diamondback, Cansole fired at
Dusty.but missed. Almost as swiftly Triblet threw down on Waco while the youngster prepared to shoot Cansole, the menacer of Babsy.
Unlike Waco and Dusty—due to the small Texan's forethought—^Triblet did not tsike trouble to care for his gun. Its hammer fell on a percussion cap so long on the nipple as to become inoperative. Only a click sounded. Before Triblet could recock the gun, Dusty drove a bullet into his head.
Showing the same speed as when shooting, Cansole hm-led himself backwards. He missed death by inches as Waco's bullet fanned by his head. Recognising the quality of the opposition, Cansole knew better 3ian make a fight. Twisting around, he raced across the room and dived head-first through the window before Waco had a chance to fire again. Already having tasted the Texans' deadly brand of gun-play, Smith jerked his hand away from the weapon and yelled that he gave up.
"He's mine. Dusty!" Waco yelled, running across the room. Yet even at such a moment he remembered to take a basic precaution. "Lon! Don't shoot. I'm coming out!"
And, warning the Kid that a friend would be the next to appear, the youngster sprang into the darkness to give chase to the fleeing Tricky Dick Cansole.
THAT WAS REAL SMART ADVICE
When Cansole burst through the window, the Kid snapped off a quick shot. In the poor light the deadly Winchester missed, although not by much. The bullet passed the outlaw close enough to hand him a nasty shock, but only caused him to run the faster. Before the Kid could take sight again, he heard Waco's shout, saw the youngster follow Cansole out of the building and held his fire. Nor did he follow as Waco gave chase to the fleeing Cansole. A skilled night-fighter, the Kid knew his presence would be a liability to Waco. The youngster stood a better chance alone and free from the danger of shooting at a friend instead of the enemy.
Thinking back to a comment made by himself earlier, the Kid grinned. '*Yes sir," he thought, walking towards the convent. ''This's sure one place that won t cause us any trouble.*'
Racing along, Cansole looked back over his shoulder. From the speed the yoimg deputy followed, he wore something more suitable for nmning than the usual high-heeled cowhand boots. So he must be killed if the outlaw hoped to escape. The problem being how to bring this off without taking a .44 Colt bullet in return.
The making of a lawman Page 17