by J. T. Edson
‘Well,’ thought the Kid, looking at the dug-out, ‘you can’t get out of there, hombre—but we’ll have a helluva time getting in.’
With which view Dusty Fog agreed on his arrival. He and Waco halted their paint stallions on top of the slope and waited until the Kid gave them covering fire before riding down to join him. Studying the situation, Dusty noted the thickness of the roof of the dug-out and the lack of cover between its door and the outcrop. To try rushing the building would be certain death if the man inside proved to be resolute and anything like a rifle shot.
‘All right, hombre!’ Dusty called. ‘This’s the marshal of Mulrooney. Come on out with your hands raised.’
‘You got no jurisdiction out here!’ the man replied and Dusty had a feeling he should recognize the voice.
‘I’m a deputy sheriff, too,’ Dusty answered. ‘This’s still in the county. Come on and you’ll not get hurt.’
‘Try coming to get me and you will!’ the man yelled defiantly.
‘Man’d say he’s got a right good point there, Dusty,’ drawled the Kid.
‘Could maybe sneak around, get on top of the dug-out and shoot down,’ Waco suggested.
‘Sure, if you knew for sure where the feller was, and he didn’t hear you on top. Because, boy, if you missed or he heard you, he’d start pumping lead right up through the roof.’
‘Which wouldn’t suit Babsy one lil mite, boy,’ the Kid continued from where Dusty left off. ‘If he shot you there how could you—’
Waco’s interruption was blistering, coarse and profane. ‘Anybody’d think there was something ’tween Babsy and me,’ he finished.
‘Now what gave you that idea, boy?’ grinned the Kid.
While this went on, Dusty had been surveying the surrounding area in the hope of finding something to break the deadlock. At last he made his decision. The man wanted to play mean, so all right, Dusty aimed to play the game the way that jasper called it.
‘Go back to town, Lon,’ he ordered. ‘Take our hosses back over the slope—no, best leave them here, they’re safe. Head back and bring the Sharps.’
‘Like that, huh?’ asked the Kid.
‘Just like that,’ Dusty agreed, his voice as cold and emotionless as a judge pronouncing the death sentence.
After the Kid rode off, Waco sat with his back to a rock and his fingers drumming on the butt of his rifle as he sank deep into thought. Dusty watched the dug-out’s door and let the youngster continue thinking, guessing the lines Waco’s thought-train followed.
‘Those fellers’d’ve been loco to try blowing out the safe happen near on every man in town hadn’t been at the Buffalo and making a helluva noise,’ Waco finally stated.
‘You figured that too, boy?’
‘Sounds like sense. Happen things hadn’t quietened down when they did, we might never have heard her blow.’
‘Right as the off-side of a horse,’ Dusty admitted. ‘If the girls hadn’t wound up sleeping—sleeping! How the hell did that happen? They hadn’t knocked each other cold.’
‘Dunno,’ Waco answered. ‘I figured they’d go at least half an hour.’
‘So did I. Freddie’s fit and tough and so’s Kate or I miss my guess. And the crowd would have been making plenty of noise all the time. Wouldn’t be many of them leaving the saloon right after the fight either, especially when the bar opened. It can’t be a coincidence that the gang just happened to hit tonight.’
‘You reckon the fight was rigged so they—Hell, Dusty, Miss Freddie nor Buffalo Kate wouldn’t do nothing like that.’
‘Which same brings up another point,’ Dusty said, ‘Who tossed out the challenge and got them together? I got the feeling that neither of the girls had thrown it Freddie wouldn’t and Kate’d prefer to chance her luck in a barroom brawl not a boxing ring—hey though, that cowhand Lon and I saw last night. Maybe he wasn’t fooling with the posters Dongelon put up, but was hanging the challenge signs up for folks to read in the morning.’
‘In cahoots with the owlhoots?’
‘Or hired without knowing a thing. Those fellers knew their work, boy, they weren’t yearling beef. Either them, or somebody local, saw a chance in the feud, knew neither Freddie nor Kate could, or would, back down and fixed the challenge to get the men folks off the streets and cover the noise of blowing the safe.’
‘You mean somebody in town set it up?’ Waco growled. ‘Boy, a good rule for a lawman to follow is never name names until he’s got enough evidence to take before a judge. I’ve my suspicions, but they’re staying mine until I’m sure of them. Now settle down, we’ve a long wait until dawn.’
The night dragged by. An hour passed before the Kid returned, coming in on foot to bring word of how Big Sarah quelled the saloon riot Then he glided back up the slope once more and it is doubtful if the man in the dug-out ever knew of the visit.
At dawn, Dusty and Waco prepared their horses for riding and by the time they finished the sun had lit the whole floor of the valley, showing the door of the dug-out clearly.
‘You in there!’ Dusty called, thrusting his carbine into its saddleboot. ‘Come out with your hands raised!’
‘Go to hell!’
‘This’s your last chance. Come out or we’ll fetch you out!’
‘So come and try it!’ screeched the man and fired two shots at the rocks.
To do so he had to expose the barrel of his rifle and part of his body around the side of the door. Which was what Dusty had been waiting for. The small Texan raised his hand and waved it towards the dug-out.
A quarter of a mile away the Ysabel Kid sat on the opposite slope to the dug-out. He held a Sharps Old Reliable rifle cradled at his shoulder, its barrel further supported by a Y-shaped stick which had been thrust into the ground. For days the Kid had been burning the Mulrooney taxpayers’ good powder and shot learning how the big rifle held at various long ranges, so as to be ready to handle such a situation. This was the kind of conditions Dusty envisaged when suggesting the purchase of the rifle as part of the office armament. The wisdom of buying a Sharps proved itself at that moment.
Eagle-keen eyes located the hidden man and sighted the rifle. The Kid heard Dusty’s warnings, the replies and the two shots. Then he squeezed the Sharp’s trigger. All was ready as he did so; the sights erected and laid with care, a cigar-long cartridge in the chamber, one hundred and twenty grains of prime du Pont powder set to expel a .45 calibre, five hundred and fifty grain bullet through the barrel. The gun’s hammer fell and it roared loud in the still of the morning. With the instinct of a good shot, the Kid knew he held true and a scream of pain confirmed his knowledge.
The instant the shot roared out Dusty and Waco sprang into action. They hit their saddles and shot one from either side of the outcrop, heading for the dug-out and hanging over the outer flank of their horses like a brace of Comanche bucks. Converging on the dug-out, they dropped from their horses, drawing their guns as they landed and dived through the door. The guns were not needed. Hit in the shoulder, moaning in agony and helpless through shock, Vince Crocker, the Brownton deputy marshal was in no shape to make further trouble.
Chapter Fourteen
Showdown for Two
‘Banks Fagan fixed the whole deal,’ Crocker moaned, looking at the men who stood alongside his bed and conscious that his words were being taken down by the banker’s secretary. ‘He knew those city boys and brought them in for it.’
The time was shortly after nine on Sunday morning and Crocker lay on a cell bunk in the Mulrooney jail, his shoulder swathed in bandages, feeling eagerness to lighten his own load by incriminating his boss. Dusty, Mark, Courtland, the local justice of the peace and the banker’s secretary stood in the cell to hear Crocker’s confession. Both the judge and Courtland showed visible signs of having been at the Buffalo the previous night and having taken part in the brawl.
‘Who rigged the challenge between Miss Woods and Miss Gilgore?’Dusty asked.
‘Banks. Him and the
mayor’s been looking for a way to wreck Mulrooney and Banks thought up the idea of having the bank robbed. Only he aimed to get rid of the gang and split the money two ways with me. He knew that fuss between Kate and the Woods dame would blow wide open and when his scout brought Dongelon’s sign, he saw his chance. He had contacted the city gang and they were ready to move. So he had the Brownton printer run off those signs and spread them round town. Knew neither dame’d back down and figgered the noise’d last long enough for the gang to do their work. I was to watch ’em and make sure they brought him the money, then we aimed to gun them down and split the take two ways.’
‘Got that, ma’am?’ Dusty asked the secretary.
‘Yes.’
‘Have him put his mark on the statement, How’s about it, Judge?’
‘Brownton’s not in your jurisdiction, Captain Fog,’ the Judge replied.
‘Not as marshal, but as deputy sheriff it is,’ Dusty told him.
‘Then I’ll go make out the warrant for Fagan’s arrest. Can you serve it?’
‘I reckon we’ll give it a try,’ Dusty said quietly. ‘There’s another thing, Judge.’
‘And that is?’
‘The riot at the Buffalo last night. I reckon five dollars a man might just about compensate Miss Gilgore for the damage.’
‘That’s reasonable,’ agreed the judge.
‘Then I’ll start with you and Mr. Courtland, or did you get that lip from walking into a door?’
For a moment the judge spluttered, then he gave a laugh and dipped his hand into his pocket. ‘Come on, Courtland,’ he said. ‘Pay your fine like a good citizen.’
‘All right,’ Courtland replied. ‘How about the others, Captain Fog?’
‘I’ll get round to them, don’t you worry about that,’ Dusty promised.
While awaiting the arrival of the warrant, Dusty found he had another problem dropped into his lap. Big Sarah arrived, looking like she brought bad news—which she did. ‘It’s Miss Freddie and Buffalo Kate,’ she said.
‘What about them now?’ Dusty groaned, although he could have guessed.
‘Kate sent word across that she’s coming for a showdown at ten o’clock, and she aims to run Miss Freddie out of town.’
‘That figures,’ Dusty grunted. ‘The damned fool women. I’ve enough on my hands right now without those two starting again. I can’t stay in town. If I don’t take Fagan soon, he’ll get to hear we captured his boys and’ll put out.’
‘Somebody’s got to ask a fool question,’ Mark drawled. ‘Might as well be me. Why not tell Freddie and Kate to forget it?’
‘That’s a fool question all right,’ grinned Big Sarah, ‘Those two gals’ll never rest easy until they know who’s boss; and they’ll have this whole town split down the middle siding one or the other before a week’s out. Let’s leave ’em settle it this morning. I reckon I can keep it off the streets.’ Recalling the efficient manner in which Sarah coped with the riot at the Buffalo, Dusty grinned and nodded. ‘I reckon you can at that. Mark’ll be here at the jail—’
‘And happen he’s any sense, he’ll stay here. This’s woman’s work and too dangerous for a man.’
Mark remembered the battle at Bearcat Annie’s place in Quiet Town, where only nine women had been involved, and felt inclined to agree with Sarah.
Ten minutes later the warrant for Banks Fagan’s arrest arrived. Dusty, Waco, the Kid and Derringer checked their guns then went to collect their horses. In the office Mark sat down to write up the log and Sarah put her badge on straight, winked at him and left the building making for the Fair Lady.
One thing was for sure, Freddie did not intend avoiding a clash but aimed to avoid too much damage to her place. Already the girls had removed the chandelier and packed away all the glass-ware, covered the bar mirror with wooden boards and fitted shutters across the inside of the windows that overlooked Main Street. In the center of the bar-room Freddie, dressed as on the previous night, stopped directing the final preparations and nodded a greeting to Sarah.
‘I’m sorry you won’t be in on this, Sarah,’ she said. ‘Can I do anything for you?’
‘Sure, give me the key to the front doors and line the girls up for a search.’
‘Is that necessary?’ Freddie smiled. ‘This is between Kate and I.’
‘Likely,’ Sarah said dryly. ‘Only I aim to search Buffalo and I don’t play any favorites.’
It was an argument Freddie could well understand. She gave the order and her girls formed a line along which Sarah went, patting over each girl in turn to make sure no lethal weapons were carried. To further lessen the chances of serious injury Sarah ordered the removal of rings and bracelets, dropping them into a buckskin bag she brought for the purpose. At the end of the search, she accepted the front doors’ key from Freddie and left the saloon.
On her arrival at the Buffalo, Sarah met with a cool reception until Kate arrived. The big blonde saloonkeeper wore a man’s shirt, jeans and moccasins and like Freddie had no jewelry on. Kate gave the order which allowed Sarah to search and disarm the Buffalo girls, trusting the female deputy’s word that Fair Lady had been given the same treatment.
Five minutes after the search, Sarah watched the Buffalo girls troop into the Fair Lady and locked the doors behind them. Just as she turned from the door, Sarah found a procession descending on her. Led by Lily Gouch, the staff of the brothel came towards the saloon.
‘I just heard and figger to help Miss Freddie,’ the madam stated.
‘They’re about even numbered,’ Sarah replied. ‘If you want to help Freddie, send your gals back to the house and have them start tearing up bandages.’
For a moment Lily Gouch stood undecided. Then she gave a shrug. She had seen enough of Sarah in her official capacity as deputy to know the girl could be trusted, so turned and gave the order to her girls.
‘How about me?’Lily asked as the girls departed.
‘Sun’s warm,’ Sarah replied, ignoring a crash and yells from inside the saloon. Why not sit on the porch across there with me and we’ll wait until the noise dies down before we open the doors.’
‘You’ve got a good idea there,’ Lily answered. ‘I reckon we might have a tolerable long wait.’
And Lily proved to be right.
Kate and Freddie faced each other, each with her girls standing in a watchful half circle behind her. One look told Freddie that Kate came to fight, although she never doubted that. Kate felt just as sure that Freddie did not put on that outfit because she aimed to back down and run.
‘This’s between you and me,’ Kate said.
‘My girls know it,’ Freddie replied.
‘Do you want to pull out?’
‘Let’s stop talking, you’re too fat to waste your wind.’
‘Am I?’ yelped Kate and swung a right.
The fist caught Freddie’s cheek and staggered the girl, but she caught her balance and bored in as Kate rushed her. Ramming her left hand into Kate’s belly, Freddie chopped a right to the blonde’s cheek and clipped her again with the left. For five minutes, while their girls yelled encouragement, Freddie and Kate fought with their fists like two men. It became apparent that Kate took the worst of the exchange. Although her blows landed heavier, Freddie got in three to Kate’s two. Twice she put Kate down, but hit the floor herself when a good, solid blow landed.
Jumping forward, Kate raised her foot. Freddie had started one of Kate’s eyes swelling up and blood trickled from the blonde’s nose. Pain and anger made Kate start the rough-house tactics. However, before her foot could crash down on to Freddie, the brunette caught her other ankle and brought her down. Then Freddie made an error in tactics. Flinging herself on to Kate, Freddie found that she had caught a tiger by the tail. In a close-quarters, roll around brawl, Kate had the advantage of weight and experience. Not that this showed at first for they twisted and rolled over and over on the floor, scattering their girls before them, throwing wild slaps, punches and bites at each other
, entwining their legs or flailing them wildly. First one then the other would gain the upper position, raining blows on the under-dog until violent heaving and pitching threw her off and put her underneath. However, Freddie found herself being harder and harder pressed to turn the heavier girl.
With a heave, Kate twisted Freddie from her and threw a fat leg over the other girl’s body, sitting on Freddie’s stomach and grabbing at her hair. Although Freddie tried, she could not turn Kate over. Her struggles did prevent Kate from taking advantage of the upper position, but it was only a matter of time before the weight licked her. Desperately Freddie swung her fists up at Kate and made the blonde lean back to avoid the blows. Then Freddie brought up both her knees, driving them into the blonde’s back. Even this might have failed to move Kate, only Freddie had a bit of good luck.
At first the girls obeyed their bosses’ orders and kept apart, but the ebb and flow of the fight round the room had caused them to mingle and join in a circle. Tension rose higher with the excitement as the girls screamed encouragement to their respective bosses.
Among the girls, Babsy buckled down to a top-class job of encouraging Freddie with her usual gusto. Then somebody bumped into her hard enough to make her turn and look who it was. Of course it had to be Ginger. Recognition was mutual and the reaction immediate. Four hands shot into hair and the two girls spun around, struggling with each other, crashing into Kate just as Freddie rocked her off balance. The impact threw Kate from Freddie and, as if triggered off by Babsy and Ginger, everybody in the room started fighting with her neighbor, in some cases without seeing, or caring, that she tangled with a friend and fellow-worker.
Feet kicked and trampled over Freddie before she could force herself upright. Shoving a couple of struggling girls aside, she threw herself at Kate just as the big blonde rose to her feet. With hands locked into hair, they reeled back and Freddie smashed Kate into the bar with enough power to wind the blonde. It was now Freddie’s advantage. Releasing the blonde hair, she whipped two slaps then a punch across Kate’s face, rocking her head from side to side. Then Kate had some luck for a swarm of screaming, fighting girls descended on them and forced them apart. Freddie spent the next couple of minutes fighting her way clear of the girls but the moment she and Kate met again, they found more girls impeding their business.