The Floating Outift 36

by J. T. Edson

  ‘Boyd?’ Belle repeated, then a flicker of understanding crossed her face. ‘You’ve told them that I’m the Rebel Spy?’

  ‘Would I lie?’ Dusty grinned. ‘Let’s just say that I’ve planted that same notion in his head.’

  ‘And how about us, E ... Dus ... Captain Fog?’ Emma demanded.

  ‘Try saying “Dusty”,’ the small Texan suggested. ‘You’ll be all right. Maybe you won’t be headed direct to Denver, but Lieutenant Kitson will see you safe to the nearest town.’

  ‘What about you?’ Emma asked and nodded to the wagon. ‘And it?’

  ‘I’ll give you ladies your cut before we split up,’ Dusty promised. ‘And see that you get to wherever you want to go without anybody knowing you’ve come from Hell.’

  ‘But where are you going?’ Emma insisted

  ‘Back there,’ Dusty replied. ‘If what Lon’s told me is right, I have to get back to Hell as soon as I can.’

  ‘Why, Dusty?’ Belle gasped.

  ‘They’re not going to stand up and cheer when you get there,’ Emma warned, but there was a calculating glint in her eyes as she studied the small Texan.

  ‘Maybe they will,’ Dusty said quietly. ‘For the same reason that Simmy Lampart liked having me around.’

  ‘Because you’re good with your guns,’ Belle guessed, then stiffened slightly. ‘Dusty! You think the Kweharehnuh are going to jump the town?’

  ‘It’s likely,’ Dusty admitted.

  ‘We all knew that would happen before we left,’ Emma sniffed and there was a hint of suspicion in her tone for which neither Dusty nor Belle could account. ‘Why’re you bothered about it so suddenly?’

  ‘Because I hoped we’d see you safe and get to Wichita Falls, then telegraph for the Army to move in before it happened,’ Dusty explained. ‘Only, if Lon’s calling the play correct, things’re due to pop wide open before they could get to Hell and fetch the folks out.’

  ‘I knew something had been sticking in your craw ever since we pulled out,’ Belle declared. ‘And, if I’d been in better shape, I’d have seen what it was.’

  ‘What?’ Emma challenged.

  ‘Leaving those folks behind at the mercy of the Kweharehnuh,’ Belle told her. ‘Dusty doesn’t think he’s done the right thing by them.’

  ‘You’re worried about the kind of folks there’re in Hell?’ the blonde asked, showing even more suspicion.

  ‘Maybe you couldn’t understand that—’ Belle began.

  ‘Lon figures the Kweharehnuh who hit us just now were trying to grab Giselle and take her back with them,’ Dusty remarked, before Emma could make an angry response to the lady outlaw’s words.

  ‘Why Giselle?’ Emma inquired, curious enough to forget her annoyance.

  ‘Because she’s the one who used to help Simmy make his “medicine” to guard the ammunition,’ Dusty replied.

  ‘Hey!’ Belle ejaculated. ‘That war-bonnet chief said something about grabbing the white witch, but I thought he meant—’

  ‘Who did you think he meant?’ the blonde bristled, having already formed her own conclusion.

  ‘He said that, huh?’ Dusty drawled, once more pouring oil on troubled waters before anything could flare up between the women.

  ‘Maybe not in those exact words, but close enough to them,’ Belle answered. ‘I understand enough Comanche to get his meaning. He said for his men to grab the white witch.’

  ‘What use would Giselle be to them without Simmy to saw her in half?’ Emma wanted to know.

  A former stage magician, Mayor Simeon Lampart had made use of his talents to impress the Comanches. To prevent thefts of his reserve ammunition, he and Giselle had made ‘medicine’ before the assembled warriors and convinced them that any interference with the supply would have fatal results. The illusion of sawing his wife in half had been Lampart’s main feature, baffling Chief Ten Bears and his medicine woman completely.

  ‘Maybe the folks are running a bluff, pretending that Simmy and Giselle are still around ready to hand over the ammunition on the day,’ Belle guessed. ‘Only Ten Bears is figuring on calling them.’

  ‘It could be,’ Dusty admitted. ‘One of the parties we saw after we pulled out could have recognized Giselle, told Ten Bears and he’s trying to get her back. Or he may think that she’s got the photographs Lampart took of him and the medicine woman.’

  ‘They thought he’d captured their souls when he showed them the pictures,’ Emma confirmed. ‘But why go back, E ... Dusty?’

  ‘Because those folks need me and the boys’ guns,’ the small Texan replied. ‘Having us there could maybe help them hold out until the Army arrives.’

  ‘I’ll ride with you,’ Belle offered without a moment’s hesitation. ‘You’ll be able to use another gun.’

  ‘We could use a battery of Williams rapid-fire cannon,’ Dusty replied. ‘But I’m not taking you along, Belle. Mark’d have my hide if I did and we all got killed.’

  ‘Leave me to deal with Mark Counter,’ Belle suggested, smiling a little at the small Texan’s somewhat peculiar excuse. ‘Even if we all do get wiped out by the Kweharehnuh.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want to put ole Mark to any trouble,’ Dusty replied. ‘Anyways, I need you to deliver the money to Governor Howard for me.’

  ‘Her?’ Emma snorted, suspicion right out in the open as she spoke the single, challenging word.

  ‘Why not “her”?’ Belle challenged.

  ‘I can just see Belle Starr delivering close to half a million dollars to Governor Howard,’ the blonde scoffed.

  ‘Are you saying I wouldn’t?’ Belle hissed, fists clenching.

  ‘With a price on your head—’ Emma began in a milder tone, realizing that the time was anything but right for an open, head-on clash with the lady outlaw.

  ‘There’s no warrant out for me in Texas,’ Belle declared. ‘Or any other place, comes to that.’

  ‘Innocence, Belle?’ Dusty grinned.

  ‘Lack of proof,’ the lady outlaw smiled back.

  ‘I know she’d do it for me, if she gives her word to,’ Dusty told Emma. ‘And you don’t need to worry. Before I pull out, I’ll give you girls your cut. Then you’re free to go wherever you choose.’

  ‘Even if I say that I want to go back to Hell with you?’ Emma asked.

  Chapter Six – He’ll Be Back, With Company

  ‘Was I a suspicious man, which nobody could right truthfully say I am,’ announced the Ysabel Kid, holding his rangy, mean-looking blue roan gelding to a steady, but mile-devouring walk. ‘I’d be asking myself just what did make those two gals conclude to come back to Hell with us.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking long on that myself,’ Waco drawled, keeping his black and white tobiano mount alongside the Kid’s blue roan. ‘And anybody’s likes can say I’m a suspicious man; as long as they do it polite and not twice on the same Sunday.’

  ‘Trouble being, you’ve got no pride,’ grinned the Kid. ‘Anyways, what’s all this-here thinking got you?’

  ‘Not a whole heap,’ the blond youngster admitted. ‘Was it just Emma, I’d say she’s going and hoping Dusty’ll take her to church ’n’ make a honest woman of her when we get back.’

  ‘Emma’s smart enough to know it’ll be more if than when we get back,’ the Kid pointed out. ‘Likewise, she’s smart enough to know there’s no chance of Dusty doing it.’

  ‘They do tell me all women’re a mite foolish and a whole heap hopeful when it comes to getting took to church and being made honest,’ Waco answered. ‘Could be Giselle’s going back to hear the will read, her being a widow-lady and all.’

  ‘She’s a widow, for sure, you saw to that,’ growled the Kid. ‘But I wouldn’t lay no “lady” brand on her.’

  You mean she’s a man?’Waco demanded with carefully assumed interest.

  ‘I don’t know and I’m not caring,’ the Kid replied. ‘Was you wanting to find out, sneak off and look next time she goes. They do tell that women’re different from us.�
��

  ‘How, pappy?’

  ‘They squat, ’stead of standing when they only want to pee—or so I’ve allus heard tell.’

  ‘Now why’s they do that, would you say?’ Waco wanted to know.

  ‘You should’ve asked Red last night,’ drawled the Kid. ‘Likely she could’ve told you. I for sure don’t know.’

  Despite their casually cheerful discussion, the Kid and Waco never relaxed in their ceaseless vigilance. Always their eyes searched the surrounding terrain and they carried their rifles instead of leaving them in the saddle boots. With the sun sinking towards the western horizon, they had already covered almost thirty miles of the journey back to Hell. That put them on the fringes of the Kweharehnuh’s stamping grounds and, if the Kid’s theory about Giselle Lampart should prove correct, moving deeper into danger with every sequence of their mounts’ hoof-beats. A quarter of a mile behind, Dusty Fog escorted the two subjects of his companions’ conversation.

  The small Texan had not agreed to permit the women to accompany him without some argument, discussion and heart-searching. Nor was he yet convinced that he had acted for the best in concurring with Emma’s and Giselle’s demands to come along.

  After the Kid had returned the previous night and said that the Kweharehnuh would be unlikely to come back, Dusty had organized things in a brisk, business-like manner which had won Lieutenant Kitson’s approval. In fact, there had been moments when the young officer had found himself on the point of snapping into a brace and answering ‘sir’ as Dusty had rattled out some command or instruction. By the time the bodies had been buried and the camp generally settled down, Kitson had been convinced that Dusty was telling him the truth and was willing to carry out his request for further assistance.

  Taking advantage of the soldiers accompanying the Kid to search for the rest of their stampeded horses, Dusty had talked with the women. Although Red and the other saloon girl had not argued when they had been told they would each receive twenty thousand dollars—the increased amount having been granted as there was a smaller number to take shares—Giselle had sulked and pouted in her disappointment. She had been expecting a far greater sum than the fifty thousand dollars given to her and was inclined to be rebellious until Emma had intervened. Drawing the brunette aside, the blonde had talked quietly, but earnestly to her. At first Giselle had been in vehement disagreement with Emma’s proposals, but had finally and grudgingly yielded to them. Much to Dusty’s surprise, the blonde had then suggested that she and Giselle should return to Hell with the three Texans.

  Dusty’s first instinct had been to refuse, for he had not underestimated the dangers of going back. Slowly, but surely, Emma had won her point and was granted permission. She had repeated her statement that Dusty, the Kid and Waco would not be popular with the citizens of Hell and had suggested that her presence and that of Giselle might be in the trio’s favor. On hearing why, Dusty had been compelled to admit that the blonde was making sense.

  Before giving his permission, however, the small Texan had insisted on learning the real reason for the request. As he had suspected, Emma had financial rather than humanitarian motives. There was a fortune in jewelry at Hell and she hoped to lay hands upon some of it, Sufficient, in fact, to make up for the reduction in the sums she and Giselle had been forced to accept as their share of the mayor’s ill-gotten gains. To prevent a similar happening, Emma had extracted Dusty’s promise that any loot she and Giselle gathered would be their property and not handed over to the authorities.

  Even with that much knowledge, Dusty might have refused; but Emma had pointed out that she might still have been able to ruin the good impression he had made on Kitson. There had also been the point of keeping Belle’s true identity a secret for Dusty to consider. Emma had hinted that she would tell the officer the truth and dispel his belief—due to carefully planted hints—that the lady outlaw was the Rebel Spy. There had been a heated scene between Belle and Emma which Dusty had ended by agreeing to the blonde’s suggestion.

  Belle had once more requested to accompany Dusty’s party, although on less mercenary grounds than those of the blonde. Not only had Dusty refused, but he had obtained her agreement to deliver the money for him. Neither the Kid nor Waco had been surprised by the trust Dusty placed in the lady outlaw. Apart from her close relationship with Mark Counter, Belle had a strong sense of personal honor. Once she had given her word to carry out a project, she would do so without hesitation. The three Texans had been certain that when—or, as the Kid had said, if—they came back from Hell, they would learn that Belle had carried out her part in the assignment.

  By the time the men had returned, everything had been settled. Each woman had collected her cut of the money and concealed it. Although Red and the other saloon girl had asked if they could ride with Dusty’s party, they had been persuaded to accompany Belle and the soldiers. Kitson had shown no hesitation about escorting Belle and the two girls to Wichita Falls and acting as custodian of the wagon’s load until such time as ‘the Rebel Spy’ could hand it over to Governor Howard. If he had been surprised by Dusty saying that Emma and Giselle would not be going with the other women, he had hidden it very well. That could have been due to the women’s stories. While the blonde and brunette had insisted that they were going to their original destination, the girls had declared that they only wanted to reach civilization as quickly as possible.

  So everything had been arranged. Waco and Red had spent the night together and had parted at dawn without too great regrets. Knowing that nothing could come of their association, the girl had accepted that it had been enjoyable and profitable but was now at an end. Red was to put her windfall to good use, returning to her hometown, marrying well and settling down to a life of happiness and respectability. For his part, it would be a few more years before Waco met the girl who persuaded him to settle down in matrimony. 16

  No fool, Kitson had noticed certain inconsistencies in the story he had been told. The signs of physical strife on the lady outlaw’s and Emma’s faces, taken with the money being in the wagon which the saloon workers had obviously been using, had pointed to the whole party travelling as a single unit. However he had been willing to accept that the blonde and her companions had helped Dusty and ‘the Rebel Spy’ to complete their assignment and asked no embarrassing questions. He had agreed to deliver a message to the Governor, requesting that the Army should move into the Palo Duro as soon as possible. Without mentioning the town, Dusty had given an accurate description of its location and asked that the soldiers be sent there.

  Dusty, the Kid, Waco, Emma, Giselle and Belle had all offered up silent prayers that the Army would receive the news and reach the town in time to save it being wiped out by the Kweharehnuh.

  Dawn had seen the two parties going their separate ways. After swinging to the north until hidden from Kitson’s view, to keep from adding to any suspicions he might have been harboring, Dusty and his companions had turned to the south west. By using the riding technique known as ‘posting the trot’, 17 they had made good time through the day. It had not been easy on the women, but, fortunately, both had done considerable riding in Hell and were fired by their eagerness to reach the safety of the town. ‘Safety’ would be a relative name for it, but at least they would have the buildings in which to shelter if they should be attacked by the Indians.

  Unless, of course, the enraged citizens of Hell shot them on sight.

  Their reception would depend upon the reaction to the story concocted by Emma and Dusty. If it was accepted, they might be spared by the citizens and would only need to worry about the Kweharehnuhs’ retaliation when it became obvious that no ammunition was forthcoming.

  Bearing in mind the possibility that Giselle might have been the target of the Kweharehnuhs’ attack on the camp, Dusty had insisted upon taking precautions against ambush. The Kid and Waco had spent their time ranging ahead or on the flanks of the women’s line of march. Although there had been no sign of human life all day,
the Texans did not regret having taken such preventive measures.

  ‘What do you reckon those folks’ll do when they see us riding in, Lon?’ Waco inquired, becoming more serious.

  ‘I’d say if they see us, it all depends on what we let ’em do,’ the Kid replied. ‘Or do you figure on Dusty taking us a-whooping and a-hollering, “Look, folks, we’re back!” along the main street comes high noon?’

  ‘I’ll let you go in front if he does,’ Waco promised. ‘It’s a pity you don’t have your ole Thunder hoss along. He’d surely look elegant a-heading the parade.’

  Due to the necessity for avoiding the drawing of attention to similarities between their real identities and those of the ‘Caxton brothers’ and ‘Alvin “Comanche” Blood’, the trio had not been able to use their favorite horses on the assignment. The big paint studs often ridden by Dusty and Waco bore, respectively, the brands of the OD Connected and Clay Allison’s CA ranches.

  Although it had never been branded, the Kid’s magnificent white stallion was too large and distinctive to be overlooked. By leaving it in the care of the OD Connected’s horse wrangler—one of the few people who could handle it in comparative safety—divesting himself of his usual all black clothing and refraining from demonstrating too much of his prowess with the Winchester or his bowie knife, the Kid had contrived to prevent the citizens and outlaws in Hell from suspecting whom he might be.

  While speaking, Waco and the Kid had been climbing a ridge. They did not permit conversation to override caution. Instead of continuing over the rim, they halted below the sky-line. Elevating their heads, they peered at what lay on the other side.

  ‘Now there’s a feller who’s just asking to get hisself scalped,’ the Kid remarked.

  Following the direction of his companion’s gaze, Waco was inclined to agree with the cryptic comment. About a quarter of a mile away, a man was riding across their front. Holding his big blue-black horse to an ambling walk, he traversed the bush-scattered terrain as if he did not have a care in the world. Tall, well built, with darkish hair, the man wore the dress and rig of a cowhand. He had on a low-crowned, wide-brimmed Stetson hat, red shirt, dark blue Levi’s pants which looked new and hung outside his high heeled, spur-decorated brown boots. A brown gunbelt about his middle carried an ivory-handled Colt Cavalry Peacemaker in a contoured, fast-draw holster on his right thigh. For all his appearance, he did not sit his range saddle like a cowhand. He was leading a well-laden pack horse at the end of a long line.