The Floating Outfit 47

by J. T. Edson

  ‘I’ll look them over on Monday,’ Merridew promised, somewhat surprised that the other was taking the discovery so calmly. However, his attention was distracted by the sight of his guest entering the lobby. It was obvious she had taken care to dress in an especially attractive fashion for the occasion. In addition to being exquisitely bejeweled, the simple black satin evening gown she wore clung snugly to her ‘hour-glass’ lines and emphasized them even more than had the attire she was wearing at their last meeting. ‘And I’ll see you then.’

  ‘That suits me fine,’ Bleasdale answered and swung around to hurry away.

  ‘I see you’ve had a visitor,’ Jessica remarked, as the horse buyer strode from the dining-room to pass her.

  ‘Yes,’ Merridew admitted, running a lascivious eye over the woman’s curvaceous figure—which his horse buyer’s instincts assessed was far from being produced by artificial aids alone—and savoring in anticipation the pleasures he felt sure would be forthcoming after the meal. ‘He was trying to sell me some horses he’s got out at his ranch, but I told him I won’t be talking business before Monday. Shall we go in and have dinner?’

  ‘Certainly,’ Jessica assented and allowed her host to take her by the arm while leading her to a secluded table at the side of the room.

  From then on, everything appeared to be going as Merridew wanted. As he was sure would be the case, the food was excellent and, despite claiming she should not as it had the effect of lowering her inhibitions, Jessica willingly shared the bottle of champagne which followed it. Furthermore, when he hinted that she might like to have some more of the liquor in his room to toast the deal they had concluded, she showed no hesitation before agreeing.

  ‘Here she is, Deputy Tinker!’ Bleasdale announced in a carrying voice, coming into the dining-room followed by the peace officer to confront the couple as they were crossing towards the door. He was delighted to see that everybody else present stopped whatever they were doing and looked his way. ‘Arrest her for trying to swindle me with a fake bank draft!’

  ‘Sure thing,’ Tinker assented, feeling just as pleased at finding himself at the center of attention in such luxurious surroundings. ‘I figured there was something wrong with her when I saw her son’d rooked and abused three fellers he’d suckered into playing cards with him. This’ll teach ‘em they can’t play them kind of games in my bailiwick.’

  ‘Just take a look at what we’ve got here, gals!’ suggested the biggest of the three garishly dressed women Deputy Marshal Jack Tinker had brought into that portion of the town’s jail reserved for female prisoners. Although the other cell was empty, the new arrivals had been placed in the one which was already occupied. ‘They’ve sure got them a high-toned lobby-lizzy visiting tonight.’

  Seated on the lower of one set of double bunks, Jessica Front de Boeuf did not appear to be giving the speaker any more attention than she had since the trio arrived.

  Despite Titus Merridew having tried to persuade the peace officer it was not necessary, acting as had been suggested by Cuthbert Alan Bleasdale the Third when lodging the complaint—although ordered might have been a more accurate term—he had insisted upon handcuffing Jessica before escorting her along the busy street from the Railroad Hotel to the Town Marshal’s office. There, he had had the wife of another deputy employed for such duties subject her to the kind of search and treatment given to the usual variety of female prisoners. She did not have any of the money received earlier from the horse buyer on her person, but was made to remove all her jewelry and place it in an envelope which, as a precaution against later claims that some was missing, she and the woman had marked with their signatures over its sealed down flap. With this formality completed, although he would usually have left the incarceration to Mrs. Hogan, he had placed her in a cell and went off to carry out the rest of the horse trader’s instructions.

  Calling at the respectable rooming-house where Jessica and her son were staying, wanting to boost his prestige amongst such potentially influential people, Tinker had not troubled to keep the reason for his visit from being overheard by the other occupants. Much to his annoyance, one of them had been a prominent lawyer visiting from Topeka and had immediately offered to act on behalf of the Front de Boeufs. While Counselor Arnold J. Grosvenor had admitted that the serious nature of the charge against Jessica precluded any chance of her being released on bail, he had been equally adamant that there was no legal reason why her son should be taken into custody when the peace officer had suggested doing so. However, he had offered to hold the one thousand dollars received from the US Army’s horse buyer as surety that the young man would remain in town until the matter could be brought before the judge on Monday.

  Although Tinker could not be rated amongst the most intelligent men in Abilene, thinking about the reputation of the legal adviser for his prisoner, he was more than a little perturbed as he had set off to do the second part of Bleasdale’s bidding. However, he was also aware that he was in no position to avoid obeying his instructions. Nevertheless, he decided to take precautions. Instead of going to see Big Kate Carteret personally at her place of business, he had had the proposition suggested by the horse trader put to her by an acquaintance whose known—albeit unreported—dishonest activities made it impossible for him to refuse to help. Big Kate, having found business slack and needing the money, accepted the offer.

  In accordance with the plan, the prostitute and two of her companions were ‘arrested’ by Tinker for ‘disturbing the peace’. Accompanied by Anna Longton and Jane Drabble, whose presence was mainly to serve as witnesses testifying to her ‘veracity’ when she had later to explain what caused the trouble she was hired to make, she was taken and placed in the cell with the intended victim. Before doing this, however, they too had been searched by the female deputy and had been compelled to shed their rings and other jewelry. Even if this had not been standard procedure, bearing in mind what he was told by Bleasdale, the peace officer would have insisted upon it being done to ensure no seriously disfiguring injuries were inflicted which might influence a jury to sympathy when the trial of Jessica Front de Boeuf took place.

  ‘Hey, you!’ Kate snapped in an even louder voice, stepping in front of the black haired woman when there was no response to her comment. Standing on widespread legs and with arms akimbo, her sturdy body was set off by a gaudy dress of flimsy material which clung so tightly it suggested there was only the minimum of undergarments beneath it. ‘I want that bunk!’

  ‘Are you speaking to me?’ Jessica inquired, looking up as if noticing she was no longer alone for the first time.

  ‘Who the hell else?’ the big prostitute demanded, exuding menace and confident that size, weight, strength and experience were all in her favor.

  ‘Then I would much rather you kept your remarks to yourself,’ Jessica stated. ‘And I’m not going to move!

  ‘You aren’t, huh?’ Kate spat out and prepared to launch the attack she had been paid to carry out.

  Studying their intended victim on their arrival, the trio considered there would be no difficulty in earning the money they had been offered. Not one of them had attached any significance to the way in which the Southron woman was seated. Leaning back a little, supported by her hands on the bunk behind her, she had her left leg raised so its foot rested upon her right knee. The posture was not graceful, nor did it seem to be in any way dangerous. However, looks proved very deceptive.

  When Trudeau Front de Boeuf had been threatened with assault by the three salesmen at the Scranton Saloon, everything which followed had had the appearance of taking place by accident. The same did not apply where his mother was concerned. For all the impression she gave of being a wealthy and pampered Southron, presumably one from a sheltered background which left her so naive she allowed herself to be tricked into paying a far larger sum for the bunch of poor quality horses than they were worth, her response to the threat was more suited to a female rough-house brawler well versed in such matters. In fact, d
espite having a well deserved reputation for toughness, the biggest of the prostitutes would have been hard pressed to achieve better results.

  Showing a remarkably swift grasp of the situation, Jessica took very effective means to counter it. Before Kate could deliver the intended assault, the raised leg was swiftly thrust forward. Emerging from under the skirt which had kept it concealed until that moment, the foot proved to be in a sturdy riding boot and not something more delicately feminine. What was more, the kick was sent with considerable power and precision to the point where it would do most good—or harm—dependent upon one’s point of view.

  Caught at the junction of her spread apart thighs by the hard heel of the boot, if she had remained capable of conscious thought, Kate might have regretted the weather being so clement that she was wearing only the minimum of clothing over the point of impact. As it was, a strangled screech burst from her. Under her heavy makeup, her face turned an ashy grayish-green and, with hands flying to the stricken region, she began to hunch her body forward. Unfortunately for her, she was not permitted to gain even what little-relief her actions might have given. Bringing down the foot and thrusting herself from the bunk, Jessica caught the big prostitute’s throat with her left hand. The fingers and thumb were buried on either side of the windpipe and, to the accompaniment of further sounds of strangulation, Kate was pushed erect again.

  ‘Hey!’ Anna yelped, staring in amazement and then starting to move forward with the intention of helping her friend.

  Before the second prostitute could come within range, Jessica gave a thrust which sent Kate stumbling backwards to crash in a seated position against the wall. In a continuation of the move, the black haired Southron whipped around a backhand slap which proved as potent as the one delivered apparently by accident when her son had been attacked earlier in the day. Caught by the blow, Anna was knocked in just as helpless a twirl against the opposite wall from where she bounced to fall dazed and bewildered on to her stricken companion.

  Nor did Jane prove any more successful. Like Anna, she had expected to be no more than a witness to the beating up of the other prisoner and to support the story told about it. However, she too was aware that some form of more positive action would now be expected from her. What was more, she was just as sure the reaction to hearing she had refrained from helping would be painful in the extreme if the larger of her companions learned this was the case. With that in mind, letting out a howl which was as much fear as anger, she lunged out of the corner into which she had retreated involuntarily, and her fingers reached for hair. She did not achieve her purpose. Before they could arrive at their objective, two hands passed between her arms and knocked them apart. Then, allowing her no opportunity to respond to the changed situation, a set of hard knuckles caught the side of her jaw and she was sent back in the direction from which she had come to alight with a bone-numbing jolt on her rump.

  ‘What the hell’s going o—!’ demanded the female deputy, having heard the commotion and come to investigate. Knowing the reputation of the largest prostitute, the sight which met her gaze brought her words to a halt. Lowering the bucket of cold water which she had brought to use in quelling the disturbance, she went on in tones of bewilderment, ‘Did you—?’

  ‘Do I look like the kind of a person who would behave in such a fashion?’ Jessica queried and, judging from her demeanor, butter would have been hard pressed to melt in her mouth. ‘They began to quarrel amongst themselves and, after one was knocked down, the other two fell against the wall and stunned one another.’

  ‘They did, huh?’ the woman deputy said, eyeing the black haired Southron in a speculative fashion.

  No fool, in fact Marshal Markham frequently claimed that—despite having no official status and only being paid for the duties she performed because he had insisted upon it—she was the best and most intelligent assistant he possessed, Mrs. Hilda Hogan found much about the situation puzzling. She had been surprised when Tinker insisted on taking first the Southron woman and then the three prostitutes into the female section of the jailhouse. Usually, he avoided doing any more work than he was compelled to do and left such tasks to her. More in keeping with his character, he had left, supposedly to make his rounds of the town, on emerging from locking up his latest prisoners and had not returned.

  Knowing Big Kate’s reputation as a trouble-causer and having no reason to disbelieve Tinker’s claim that the trio were brought in for disturbing the peace, Mrs. Hogan had not been surprised when she heard the commotion from the cell. Therefore, she had arrived on the scene expecting to have to stop a fight between them. Before she could do more than start thinking of how ill-advised Tinker had been when incarcerating them with the other woman, the ramifications of the sight which greeted her drove everything else from her head. Nor, in her opinion, did the explanation she had received do anything to clarify the situation.

  ‘They did,’ Jessica confirmed. ‘And I would like to protest about them having been put in this cell with me.’

  ‘Yeah,’ the deputy answered, deciding to let her suspicions go unchecked and taking the ring of keys from her waist belt. ‘Jack Tinker shouldn’t’ve done that. Come on, I’ll put you in next door.’

  ‘That’s most considerate of you,’ Jessica declared. ‘And I won’t forget it when I’ve got this whole unfortunate business cleared up on Monday morning.’

  ‘And, purely as a result of unsupported suppositions, my client suffered the humiliation of being arrested and marched in handcuffs through the street in public view without even having been questioned and granted an opportunity to refute the allegations made against her,’ Counselor Arnold J. Grosvenor boomed in his most imposing courtroom tones, glaring around him in the manner which had impressed judges and, more usefully where the needs of his clients were concerned, juries whenever he appeared as defense attorney. Although neither were present on this occasion, he considered his behavior justified and continued, ‘Then, as if that was not injustice enough, she was held prisoner in the company of women of ill-repute until this morning!’

  ‘She got treated real good all the time she was there,’ Deputy Marshal Jack Tinker claimed from where he was standing in a sullen slouch at the rear of the room.

  Before he completed the attempt at exculpation, the surly looking peace officer began to wish he had not drawn attention to himself. He had already been subjected to a less than pleasant interview with his superior and was left in no doubt that he was considered to have acted in a most ill-advised fashion.

  It was shortly after nine o’clock on Monday morning and the office of the Town Marshal was more crowded than it usually was at that hour of the first day of the week.

  Being aware of the kind of a First Deputy he had had foisted upon him by Mayor David Shipman, Town Marshal Stanley Woodrow Markham had been surprised to receive a visit from Tinker while he was having breakfast at his home. At first, unaware that his presence so early in the day was in itself a source of suspicion due to his lazy habits, the bulky and surly peace officer had tried to give the impression that he believed he had upheld the law in a satisfactory fashion while his superior was absent. Nevertheless, it was obvious that he was far from happy with the results of his efforts. Nor had Markham considered his poorly concealed perturbation unjustified as he described how he had decided the complaint lodged by Bleasdale required that he should arrest Jessica Front de Boeuf.

  Subjecting Tinker to a far from amicable interrogation while hurrying to his office, every instinct the Marshal possessed—being a lawman of long experience—warned him things might not be quite so straightforward as they appeared on the surface. Learning of the incident in the cell from Mrs. Hilda Hogan, who had remained on duty all night, he had heard nothing to make him change his mind. When asked what had caused the trouble, the three prostitutes had substantiated the story told by the other prisoner when explaining how they were found in the position which so puzzled his female deputy. Nevertheless, after having seen and spoken with
Jessica, he had suspected there was more to the incident than that. The discovery that she had obtained the legal services of Counselor Grosvenor, whose reputation was well known to—if not respected by—peace officers throughout Kansas, struck him as offering further proof of his supposition.

  Being aware of just how serious the situation could be, Markham decided to take every possible precaution. To achieve this, he had assembled all the parties who, he believed, would be most interested in the outcome of the affair. Gathered from their homes by Mrs. Hogan and the First Deputy were the Mayor, Bleasdale and—at Tinker’s suggestion—his brother-in-law, Counselor Richard P. Maher. Knowing his evidence would be crucial, the Marshal had also sent for Gaylord Benskin, the president of the Cattleman’s Bank and, wishing to learn all the facts, arranged for Titus Merridew to attend. To protect himself against later claims that her side of the affair was not heard, he had insisted that Jessica was present and, although stressing that he was only holding an informal hearing to ascertain the facts, he acceded to her request that her son, Trudeau, should bring their attorney.

  When asked to tell his side of the matter, although Maher was clearly impressed and not a little perturbed on learning the identity of the other lawyer, Bleasdale was confident that the outcome of the ‘informal hearing’ was a foregone conclusion. Before his brother-in-law could intervene, darting a malignant glare at Jessica—who had obviously escaped the additional punishment he had hoped to have had inflicted and, despite the attempt having failed, for which he had already paid—he had explained that he was to have been the victim of a confidence trick. Much to his annoyance, instead of immediately accepting his version, the Marshal had not objected when Grosvenor began to speak in her defense.