The Floating Outift 36

by J. T. Edson

  ‘She can be hurt in the box!’ Pohawe shrieked. ‘I told you—’

  As surprised as everybody else by the medicine woman’s actions, Dusty Fog responded fast. Even in his haste, he used his head and did not act blindly. He remembered that the photograph of Pohawe had been in the outer position when he had placed them inside his shirt. So he extracted the correct picture and left that of Ten Bears concealed. Gripping the top corners between his thumbs and forefingers, he held it so that the woman could identify it.

  ‘I hold your spirit, Pohawe,’ Dusty warned. ‘If you—’

  ‘I fear no white man’s medicine!’ the woman interrupted, turning her revolver in Dusty’s direction.

  Instantly, the small Texan ripped the photograph down the middle. Even as the fragments fluttered from his hands, Pohawe’s body jerked violently. The top of her skull seemed to burst open and she crumpled lifeless to the ground.

  On the slope, the Kid had read the implications behind Dusty’s and Pohawe’s actions. Knowing that his amigo would hesitate before shooting a woman—even one as evil as her—the Kid had removed the need from him to do so. Skidding to a halt and whipping up his rifle, he had driven a bullet through the back of the medicine woman’s head. By doing so, he had demonstrated in a satisfactory manner that some aspects of a white man’s ‘medicine’ could be deadly effective.

  Half a dozen braves, those most deeply involved in Pohawe’s scheme for the reconquest of Comancheria, bounded from the crowd. The woman had planned badly, for her faction had been gathered in one place instead of scattered amongst the other braves. It proved to have been a costly error.

  Two died almost immediately, their rifles still not at shoulder level, for Dusty did not hesitate to defend himself against armed, desperate men. Showing the devastating speed and ambidextrous control of his weapons for which he was famous, he drew and fired the twin Colts simultaneously. Those of the Kweharehnuh who had not seen him confront the two Unionist fanatics and their Agar Coffee Mill ‘devil’ gun learned how he had gained the name ‘Magic Hands’.

  Slightly less rapidly, Waco tumbled the third and fourth of the braves from their feet. The fifth fell to the last bullet held by the Kid’s Winchester. Screaming out his war cry, the sixth leapt to wreak his vengeance upon the white ‘medicine man’.

  With a heave, the illusionist overturned the box and dropped behind it. Its lid burst open as it struck the ground, allowing Giselle’s bloody, lifeless body to roll out. In the dive for cover, the cloaked figure lost its top hat. Although the attacking brave sent a bullet into the box, he missed his intended target. While he was still working the repeater’s lever, four Colts and Ten Bears’ rifle spat at him. Any one of their bullets would have been fatal.

  ‘I’ll kill any brave who raises a weapon against the white people!’ Ten Bears announced.

  There was no need for the pariaivo’s warning. Obviously Pohawe’s medicine had gone very bad, so those who had considered following her lead now changed their minds. Not another weapon was lifted and the warriors stood impassively awaiting the next developments.

  ‘My thanks, Paruwa Semenho,’ Dusty said, holstering his guns on becoming satisfied that there would be no further need for them where the Kweharehnuhs were concerned. ‘I regret having to kill your men.’

  ‘They would have killed you,’ Ten Bears pointed out. ‘And the white medicine man.’

  ‘Are you all right, Em—?’ Dusty began, turning towards the overturned box. ‘What the ... Where’s Emma, O’Day—’

  The figure which had risen still had the face of Simeon Lampart, but it was not topped by feminine blonde hair. Instead, the skull was completely bald. For the first time Dusty and Waco realized that the illusionist was taller than Emma; and noticed the deep-set, glowing eyes.

  ‘In Simmy’s house,’ the man answered in O’Day’s voice.

  ‘If she’s dead—!’ Dusty growled.

  ‘She’s not,’ O’Day interrupted. ‘She’ll have a sore head, but nothing more. I’m like you, I respect and admire Emma. So I contented myself with clubbing her insensible. I had to do it. She would never have willingly let me step in as her understudy.’

  ‘My apologies, Ten Bears,’ Dusty said in Spanish, turning his eyes towards the pariaivo. ‘I must talk to this man.’

  ‘We will wait until you are finished,’ Ten Bears promised.

  ‘Why’d you do it, O’Day?’ Dusty inquired, giving his attention to the man once more.

  ‘So that I could become the next medicine man of Hell,’ the illusionist replied. ‘It struck me as a most lucrative proposition.’

  ‘It might be,’ Dusty admitted, ‘if the town wasn’t closing down.’

  ‘Why should it close down?’ O’Day demanded. ‘The ammunition is waiting to be handed over—’

  ‘Only the medicine’s been spoiled,’ Dusty replied, indicating the box and the motionless woman on the ground beyond it. ‘The town’s done, hombre.’

  ‘Perhaps not,’ O’Day purred. ‘I think that I might yet save the situation.’

  ‘Not while Dusty and me can stop you,’ Waco growled.

  ‘I know it wouldn’t be any use offering you shares in the concern,’ the man declared, left hand rising as if to rub at his forehead. ‘So I must make certain that you cannot interfere with my arrangements.’

  While he was speaking, O’Day extended his open, upturned right palm and rested its elbow against his side. It was an innocent-seeming movement and had met with success when used against the three outlaws in Baylor County. Yet he realized that he now faced a vastly different proposition. The two Texans were not slow-witted yokels, but intelligent and lightning fast gunfighters. Even with the surprise element of the Derringer in its sleeve-holdout rig, he would be unlikely to drop them both quickly enough to save his life.

  He did, however, have an ace in the hole. Something that had saved his life on at least two occasions; once during his quest for Simeon Lampart’s whereabouts 28 and last night while confronted by Rosie Wilson. Once Dusty Fog and Waco saw what lay under the mask, they would be frozen into immobility long enough to give him his chance.

  ‘Just how do you figure on doing it, hombre?’ Waco inquired, eyeing the wide shirt cuff above the extended, empty hand.

  ‘Like this!’ O’Day spat and tugged downwards with his left hand.

  Doing so peeled off the mask and left his features exposed. There was no face as such, only a cratered, seamed, hideous mass of dirty gray flesh without a real nose or much by the way of lips. As the mask was removed, O’Day pressed his right elbow against his ribs and set the Remington Double Derringer free. It was propelled forward towards the palm that was waiting to close upon its bird’s-head grip.

  O’Day was only partially successful in his assumption of the Texans’ reactions to the sight of his face. What he had not known was that Dusty Fog was aware of the vitriol attack and could guess at something of the horror which must lie behind the mask.

  Like Dusty, the blond youngster had suspected that O’Day carried a hide-out pistol up his sleeve and was ready to counter its threat. The sight of the man’s ruined features prevented Waco from responding with his usual speed. Letting out of gasp of horror, the blond kept his hands motionless.

  Fortunately for Waco, Dusty was not so badly affected. On learning about the incident which had ruined O’Day’s face, the small Texan had reached an accurate estimation of how Rosie Wilson had been killed. From his memory of the sequence in which the shots had been fired and after examining the rear of the barber’s shop, Dusty had concluded that the woman had surprised her killer as he was leaving. Obviously she had been holding her revolver and the bull’s eye lantern. According to Emma, Rosie had known how to handle the gun. So something must have diverted her, giving the person she had confronted time to shoot. Seen in the lantern’s light, that hideously-marked face would have had such an effect.

  So Dusty had been prepared. Yet he knew that Waco might not be so ready. Throwing himself s
ideways, Dusty sent his hands towards their respective weapons. He charged into Waco, knocking the youngster staggering. Even as he moved, the Remington appeared and barked. Something like a red-hot iron gouged across his right shoulder, but he knew that he had been lucky. If he had remained motionless, he would have caught the .41 ball in the torso. Pain halted his right hand, but the left completed its draw. Crashing, once, the Colt from the off side holster sent its bullet into O’Day’s left breast. The man reeled, spun around and landed face down on the ground.

  Dusty lowered his smoking Colt and let out a long, low sigh. The assignment was over. All he now had to do was get the remaining citizens of Hell out of the Palo Duro alive.

  Chapter Seventeen – Let Them Leave in Peace

  Mortally wounded, Mephisto O’Day lay on top of the box, which had been set up again, and allowed Doctor Connolly to do what little he could to treat the wound. Having had his shoulder bandaged, Dusty Fog stood with the Ysabel Kid and Waco in front of the Kweharehnuh chiefs.

  ‘What now, Magic Hands?’ Ten Bears asked and pointed to Giselle’s body. ‘The medicine is broken—’

  ‘I only said that the saw couldn’t hurt her,’ the small Texan pointed out. ‘Pohawe shot her.’

  ‘The witch woman has told you many times that the white man’s medicine was a trick,’ the Kid went on. ‘Yet she could not understand how it was done. So she killed the woman in anger and paid the price. She had no medicine power, or if she had, it left her for her badness.’

  ‘Cuchilo speaks with a straight tongue,’ declared the ‘old man’ chief who had loaned him the shield. ‘All along I said that she was no true medicine woman.’

  ‘This I give to you, Paruwa Semenho,’ Dusty said and drew the photograph from his shirt.

  Watching, the Kid gave a silent whoop of delight and approval. Trust old Dusty to do just the right thing. Returning the photograph, without being asked or using it as a bargaining point, had been a masterly stroke.

  ‘My thanks to you, Magic Hands,’ the pariaivo replied and his deep sense of gratitude showed plainly. ‘What now?’

  ‘You will be given your ammunition,’ Dusty answered. ‘The people have it. In return, I say let them leave in peace.’

  ‘They wish to leave?’ Ten Bears inquired.

  ‘Maybe they don’t, but they will. You have the word of Magic Hands on that. Let them go and have your bravehearts give the sun-oath that they will not harm them as long as they leave the Palo Duro.’

  ‘The pariaivo of the Texans is right,’ Ten Bears admitted, throwing a disgusted glare at the bunch of citizens huddled in the background. ‘They would be coups only for tuineps just becoming tuivitsi. It will be done, Magic Hands.’

  ‘Captain Fog,’ Connolly said. ‘This man wants to speak to you.’

  ‘I’ll come right now,’ Dusty promised, having translated the request and received Ten Bears’ permission to finish the conversation. ‘Make the allocation, you folks.’

  ‘Then we can stay here?’ Youseman asked.

  ‘Nope,’ Dusty replied. ‘But you’re getting out alive with anything you can tote with you.’

  ‘But—!’ the undertaker began.

  ‘Can we leave in safety?’ Goldberg interrupted.

  ‘No Kweharehnuh’ll harm you, I’ll have their word on that,’ Dusty assured the citizens. ‘They’ll let you out of the Palo Duro. So start handing out that ammunition.’

  Leaving Waco and the Kid to attend to the allocation, Dusty walked over to the box. Holding her head, Emma came up with the men Dusty had dispatched to make sure that she was all right. Ordering everybody else to keep away, Dusty stood with the blonde alongside the hideously disfigured man.

  ‘Have you ever seen a death scene in a drama, Captain Fog?’ O’Day asked. ‘If not, you are now. I am going to play my death scene, using breath some might say would be better employed in confessing my sins.’

  ‘Don’t talk, Mephisto—’ Emma began.

  ‘Talk is all I have left, my pet,’ the man answered. ‘So let me have my grand dying scene. I am sorry for striking you down—’

  ‘That’s all right,’ the blonde replied. ‘I’ve always taken lumps from one man or another.’

  ‘You’re not the delicate flower you would have us believe, Emma,’ O’Day chided. ‘But it is a good role and you can play it well. You’ll find the jewelry from Crouch’s safe, with that which Giselle stole from Duprez, in the left-hand drawer of Simmy’s desk.’

  ‘You killed Duprez?’ Dusty put in. ‘I didn’t suspect you of doing it.’

  ‘Why not?’ O’Day inquired. ‘Did I impress you to such an extent with my glowing honesty?’

  ‘Nope. I just couldn’t see Duprez showing you where the jewelry was hidden. I figured that it’d take a pretty woman to get that. On top of which, I knew that Emma and Giselle had come back to lay hands on the jewelry.’

  ‘You thought that I’d sent Giselle to do it?’ Emma demanded angrily.

  ‘Nope,’ Dusty replied. ‘I reckoned that was her idea. You’d’ve been planning to get it without fuss and killing.’

  ‘That’s what I planned,’ the blonde confirmed. ‘I kept warning her that you’d only stand by your word as long as nobody got hurt. Only she had to do it her own way.’

  ‘Come now, no further recriminations,’ O’Day put in weakly. ‘This is my death scene and I should hold the stage, not the supporting players.’

  ‘Go to it,’ Dusty requested, unable to hold down his admiration for the dying man. ‘There’s nothing anybody can do to save you.’

  ‘I don’t think I wanted saving,’ O’Day countered. ‘With a face like mine, there is nothing to live for except revenge. And even that is no longer with me.’

  ‘Simmy and Giselle were always afraid that you hadn’t drowned,’ Emma remarked. ‘They knew that you’d be looking for them if you hadn’t.’

  ‘And they were right. After Simmy had thrown the vitriol into my face, I dashed from the hotel and flung myself into the river. I almost drowned, but the water saved at least some of my face. Don’t ask me how I got out of the river. Luck, maybe. I was always a strong swimmer. Or determination not to die until I had been avenged on Simmy and Giselle. So I lived—if you could call it living—but by the time I had recovered sufficiently, they were gone. I headed for Mexico, only to discover that they had not reached the original destination. So I wondered if something had gone wrong. I returned to the United States and began to haunt the theaters. If Simmy needed money, that is where he would turn. I had all my props, wigs, masks, everything. Few people ever saw my real face and none who did lived. Yet there was no word of Simmy. Until at last I picked up a hint about Hell. It was enough to set me to trying to find it.’

  ‘You got here in the end,’ Dusty drawled.

  ‘And found that I had arrived too late,’ O’Day pointed out. ‘I could hardly believe the luck which threw me in with Giselle and Emma. It gave me a chance to see how well my disguise would stand up to old friends’ scrutiny.’

  ‘It worked real good,’ Emma praised. ‘But Giselle thought she recognized your voice.’

  ‘And put it down to the workings of her conscience, I’ll bet,’ the man grinned. ‘What a blow to be told that Simmy was dead. I had planned a different end for him. However, I decided to have my vengeance upon Giselle. And then I saw what a good proposition the town was. It would be a sop for my loss if I could take it over and run it in Simmy’s place. First, of course, I would have to eliminate you and your companions, Captain Fog. No. Don’t interrupt. I was seeking ways of doing it, when I followed Giselle to the bathhouse. I broke into the living quarters and hid in the bedroom. I saw her entice Duprez into producing le Blanc’s loot. Then she killed him and carried it off with her. I wasted some time commiserating with her victim and was confronted by the Wilson woman as I left. I don’t think she liked my face.’

  ‘It would have worked again, except that Emma had told me about you,’ Dusty commented. ‘So I was expecti
ng something like it when you pulled the mask off.’

  ‘So that’s how I failed. No matter now. Slipping away from the barber’s shop, I decided to make some trouble for your party. I went to the jewelers and was opening his safe when his wife came in. I killed her to silence her, then I’m damned if her husband didn’t arrive. I knifed him, but he managed to run away. So I changed wigs and left the long one with the jewelry, my cloak and top hat hidden behind the hotel’s back house, then came to the saloon. It was my intention to incriminate Giselle, knowing that you would protect her and, given good luck, be killed. Instead, I found myself accused and in danger of being lynched. So I exposed your identities to divert attention from myself. May I say that you handled the situation in a masterly and efficient manner?’

  ‘Thank you ’most to death,’ Dusty answered dryly. ‘Why did you come back to town? I thought that you’d figured the Kweharehnuh’d settle your score with Giselle and’d lit out.’

  ‘That’s what I wanted you to think,’ O’Day admitted. ‘My real intention by that time was to become the ruler of Hell. I left my horses and property in the woods, returned before daylight and concealed myself in Simmy’s house. That was how I came to find le Blanc’s loot. I knew that Giselle was too smart to have kept it on her person.’

  ‘How did you know that I’d come and give you a chance to take over from me?’ Emma wanted to know.

  ‘Ah. That, I admit, was fortunate rather than planned. I had learned how the allocation was always made and knew that, apart from myself, only you in Hell knew how to handle the trick. I had come prepared, in the hope that an opportunity might arise. It did and I took my chance.’

  ‘And near on bust my head!’ the blonde stated indignantly.

  ‘Pure necessity, my dear Emma,’ O’Day apologized. ‘I assure you that I struck as gently as I could. It was my hope to perform the trick, then amaze the Indians by a transformation to my real self. Then I would have persuaded them to kill you and your men, Captain Fog. What I didn’t count on was that somebody would have plans of their own. What caused the shooting?’