by J. T. Edson
Black hair looking like a tangled wool mop, face twisted with exhaustion and rage, marked with bruises and blood, Evalyn jerked the Colt from its holster and tried to rise. Although every movement called for an intense physical effort, Calamity plunged forward. More by luck than good judgment, her hands closed on Evalyn’s right wrist. The Colt crashed, but its barrel was pointing away from Calamity. Again sheer instinct drove her into action. Carrying the trapped wrist up, she pivoted and brought off a near perfect flying-mare throw.
A scream broke from Evalyn as she sailed over Calamity’s shoulder. Down she crashed, the base of her spine striking the log with shattering force. Once more a scream broke from her, one of agony. Her head struck the floor and she lay with her gorgeous body trailing across the log, mouth open and working soundlessly.
Swinging around, Calamity prepared to follow up her attack. Hooves drummed in the background as she lurched on wobbling legs toward Evalyn. Bending, Calamity picked up her Colt, staggered and supported herself with both hands on the log.
The swirling waves of dizziness left her and she looked to where Cole was galloping up, followed by two of the guards from the other coach.
“What the hell kept you?” she gasped, as the men leapt from their saddles.
“Damned if we didn’t ride slap into the Sedgewell gang up there,” Cole replied. “Has she hurt you bad?”
Although Calamity felt that Evalyn had done as good a job of hurting her as possible, she refused to admit it. “Not as bad as I fixed her.”
“How about Hewes?”
“He’s by the wagon, shot up bad. You’d best go down and stop those two gals fighting afore they snatch each other bald-headed.”
“What about you and her?” Cole demanded, nodding to Evalyn.
“I’m fine,” Calamity replied. “And she’s not going any place for a spell.”
Chapter 17
QUIT LOAFING AND COME
SITTING IN THE MOST COMFORTABLE CHAIR OF THE Tappet house, Calamity had to admit there were times when she had felt better. It was just after ten o’clock at night and every bruise, lump, bite or graze fought to assert itself on her aching frame. Yet she refused to retire until hearing what Cole had to tell her.
“Hewes’ll live and he’s talking up a storm,” the marshal said. “His missus’ back wasn’t bust, but she’s mighty sorry for herself. Not sorry enough to talk. We got all we need from him and the two gals. Including why Mrs. Hewes tried to gun you down outside the Bull Elk.”
“Why?” asked Calamity, darting a glance at young John Browning, also an interested listener.
“Because you saw that fake mining stock,” the marshal replied.
“You mean he’s the one who’s been selling it?” John inquired.
“Nope, son. He’d bought some.”
“Hell, who’d care about him buying a couple of dud lumps of stock?” Calamity demanded.
“Ten thousand dollars worth, sister,” corrected the marshal. “The two you saw were only a lil part of it—and all bought with the bank’s money. Him and his wife were scared you might start talking about seeing the stock and get folks wondering how much of it he’d been suckered into buying.”
“Even if they lied their way out of it, folks wouldn’t be happy about leaving their money in a bank run by a jasper who’d got slickered on dud mining stock,” Calamity agreed. “Why didn’t they try for me again?”
“Don’t worry, sister,” Cole told her, “Mrs. Hewes aimed to, until he told her how you were acting as a special deputy. They left you alive so he could work on you and learn about that big gold shipment.”
“Which he tried,” Calamity said. “Was losing all that money why he started the hold-ups?”
“Sure.”
“Were the gals in on it from the start?”
“He reckons not. The first time he worked alone. Only when he saw Monique stop the feller drawing, he got the idea. His wife got on to the money being lost about then. Right after, he sent Millie out with that miner to see the place the feller wanted to buy. The third time, Mrs. Hewes went along, and they had to kill the feller. So he told her his idea, and she had him use his charm on the two gals. I tell you, Calam, he sounded real pleased it was all over.”
“So’d you if you’d had to keep a wife and two gals happy,” grinned Calamity. “Lord, I bet he near on died when he had to add me to the pot. Were the first hold-ups so they could get their hands in to take the gold shipment?”
“Nope. They never figured on doing it until Sedgewell didn’t show like she sent word for him to.”
“She?” John ejaculated. “Was she——?”
“Sedgewell’s half-sister. That feller we shot in the alley carried messages between ’em,” Cole answered. “Seems like Sedgewell found the banker’s niece and her husband, killed them and sent his sister along to take their place. They needed a husband and picked on Hewes—.”
“So they could rob the bank?” guessed John.
“That was the idea,” agreed Cole. “Only after the Heweses took over they found that the old owner’d been a mighty poor businessman. There was hardly anything left for them to steal. Then Sedgewell got the idea of using the bank to stash the money from his robberies until it was safe to be spent. The ten thousand Hewes lost was part of the loot. So you can see why he had to get it back. His wife went along with him because she reckoned Sedgewell’d never believe they hadn’t helped themselves to the money. They figured that the big gold shipment’d make him forgive if not forget.”
“Don’t start throwing bits of the bible around,” groaned Calamity. “So she sent word to Sedgewell to come and see her on Saturday—.”
“Only Cultus killed the jasper who should have collected the message and I stopped any chance of it reaching Sedgewell,” Cole replied. “When Sedgewell learned about the trading post burning down, he reckoned to ride over and see his sister. Used the high country trail, figuring there’d be less chance of meeting anybody on it, and rode slap into an armed posse. We got him and all his gang; had to kill him a mite afore the rest saw reason, though.”
“How about the two gals?” asked Calamity, thinking of Monique and Millie as she had seen them, tattered, bloody and bruised at the end of what must have been a real rough fight. The battered pair were languishing in cells at the town jail, along with the Heweses and the remnants of the Sedgewell gang.
“They’ll go for trial with the rest,” Cole answered.
“Do they have to?” John put in.
“Sure, boy.”
“Can’t you ask the judge to go easy on them?” Calamity suggested. “Hell, a gal in love don’t know what she’s doing half the time. And Hewes was a mighty easy man to love. I might’ve gone the same way had I met him afore the robbery. In fact I had to keep telling myself all the time that he was a robbing skunk.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Cole promised. “That gun idea worked real good, Johnny.”
“Naw!” the boy replied. “It was too complicated. There has to be an easier way of doing it——.”
“If there is, I’ll bet you find it,” smiled Calamity, having seen him pay for the machinery with money supplied by Wells Fargo until the bank’s affairs could be settled.
At that moment Mrs. Tappet entered the room carrying a buff telegraph message form. “For you, Calam,” she said.
Taking the paper, Calamity read it and let out a snort. “Listen to this,” she said. “Quit loafing and come back here to help deliver supplies to Fort Sherrard, Dobe Killem.”
“That’s in Sand Runner’s country, Calam,” Cole warned, mentioning the current top war chief of the Sioux. “You watch he don’t get your scalp, sister.”
“I’d bet Calam against Sand Runner or any other old Injun,” John announced, eyeing the girl with pride.
“You know something, boy,” grinned Marshal Cole. “I feel the same way myself.”
What happened when Calamity met Sand Runner is told in TROUBLE TRAIL.
Abou
t the Author
J.T. EDSON brings to life the fierce and often bloody struggles of the untamed West. His colorful characters are linked by the binding power of the spirit of adventure—and hard work—that eventually won the West. J.T. Edson has proven to be one of the finest craftsmen of Western storytelling of our time.
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Books by J.T. Edson
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Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE ROAD TO RATCHET CREEK. Copyright © 1968 by J.T. Edson. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Adobe Digital Edition April 2009 ISBN 978-0-06-193216-8
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*The story of Calamity’s defeat is told in THE WILDCATS
*Calamity’s first meeting with Mark Counter is told in TROUBLED RANGE.
†Mark Counter’s story can be read in the author’s floating outfit stories.
*Knobhead: A Mule.
*A recipe for making pemmican is given in COMANCHE.
*Belle Boyd’s story is told in THE COLT AND THE SABRE and THE REBEL SPY
*Told in THE BAD BUNCH.
†Told in THE BULL WHIP BREED.