Running Irons (11 page)

After fumbling for a moment, he got to slipping his arms around her and brought his face to her own. Calamity slid her arms between his and around his body then burrowed her face to his,
kissing him. And when Calamity set her mind to it, she could kiss better than most gals with far greater advantages in more formal education. One thing was for sure, when Calamity started in to kissing him, Stan could have been jabbed by a sharp-rowelled spur and never noticed the pain.

While kissing, Calamity lowered one hand and slid the wallet from Stan’s hip pocket. The very ease with which she removed it made Calamity decide to change her plans. On leaving the saloon she had merely intended to give Stan a slight return for a mildly enjoyable evening and then return to Ella Watson with the story that the cowhand did not give her a chance to lift his leather. Finding how easy the removal was, Calamity changed her original plan.

Just before she could put her plan into operation, Stan pulled his head away from her. Calamity found herself in an embarrassing position, standing with the cowhand’s wallet in her right hand. Of course, he could not see the hand, but at any moment he might miss his wallet. So, like any good general, Calamity decided the best defense would be to attack.

“Whooee!” she gasped. “You sure kiss up a storm. When a gal’s been kissed by you, she sure knows she’s been kissed.”

Which same coincided with what Stan had always suspected. “Want another?” he inquired.

“What do you think?”

Once again Calamity kissed the cowhand. His arms gripped her tightly, but she managed to extract the money from the wallet. Still holding Stan’s attention, she slid the money into his pocket and retained the wallet.

“Stan! Hey, Stan!” Eddie yelled, riding into sight on the street and leading a second horse. “Let’s go.”

Releasing Calamity, Stan stepped back. Just in time Calamity slipped her right hand behind her back so he could not see the wallet it held. Stan looked at the girl and grinned.

“Dang it, Marty,” he said. “I’ve got to go now. Say, will you be here when I get back?”

“Sure will,” she agreed.

Turning, Stan headed for his horse and went afork in a flying mount. A wild cowhand yell left his lips and he put the pet-makers to his horse’s flanks. With a few more whooping yells, the brothers galloped out of town. Calamity watched them go, a grin on her face. Quickly she slipped the wallet into the front of her dress and walked back to the saloon.

“Did you get it?” Ella asked as Calamity walked over to her.

“Sure. Where’d you want me to give it to you?”

“In the office. Come on.”

Following the saloonkeeper, and with Maisie and Phyl on her heels, Calamity went into Ella’s of
fice; a small room with a desk, a couple of chairs and a safe, and used for general saloon business. Taking out the wallet, Calamity handed it to Ella, wondering what would come next.

“What’s this?” Ella snapped as she opened the wallet and stared at its denuded interior. “It’s empty!”

“Empty!” said Calamity, Phyl and Maisie; Calamity in well simulated surprise, Phyl in a startled tone, and Maisie with a mocking glance at the red-headed boss girl.

“All right, Marty!” Ella hissed. “Strip off!”

“Huh!” Calamity gasped.

“Come on, you know what the boss means!” Maisie snapped, delighted to have scored on Phyl, for the red-head was the one who took the new girl to see Ella.

“All right, don’t get mean!” Calamity yelped. “So search me! How was I to know it was empty? I couldn’t look in it with him watching, and I’d be crazy to try lifting the cash then bringing an empty wallet.”

“She’s got a good point there, boss,” Phyl put in.

“Or maybe she’s just smart,” sniffed Maisie. “Peel off, girlie, or I’ll do it the hard way.”

Normally such a threat would have been met eagerly by Calamity, but she held down her desire to jump the buxom brunette and hand her a licking. Giving a shrug, Calamity peeled off the dress and stood clad in a combined chemise and drawers
outfit, stockings and shoes—and with the Remington Double Derringer, borrowed from Captain Murat, in a garter holster. Calamity had hoped to keep her armament hidden from the other saloon-girl’s eyes but knew her secret was out. All three women looked at the gun, yet none seemed concerned by it.

“You don’t need
that
here,” Ella remarked, nodding to the Derringer.

“I wouldn’t reckon you’d have any virtue to defend,” Maisie went on, giving Calamity’s dress a thorough search. “I’ll do that.”

The last came as Phyl started to examine the rest of Calamity’s clothing as it was removed. An angry red flush crept to Phyl’s face at the words.

“Don’t you trust me?” she hissed and made no attempt to put down the garments she held.

“Check the Derringer’s got nothing but bullets in it, Maisie,” Ella interrupted. “Phyl, go ahead with the underwear.”

While she encouraged the rivalry between her two boss girls, Ella had no intention of allowing them to decide once and for all who had the higher social standing by means of a fight. Knowing that hell had no fury like an annoyed or humiliated woman, Ella preferred to let them simmer than have one embittered by defeat and maybe looking for revenge by talking of the saloon’s other business to interested parties.

“Nothing,” Ella said after the check. “No hard feelings, Marty, but you know how it is.”

“Sure, boss. I’m sorry I didn’t do better. Why’d you think he had something in his wallet?”

“Just a hunch. It looks like he either changed places, or let Eddie hold the money when they went out back. Young Stan’s smarter than I thought. Go back out front and do some work, Marty.”

After Calamity left the office, Maisie scowled at Phyl and asked, “Do you reckon she could have hid the money outside before she came in?”

“And bring in the empty wallet?” scoffed Phyl. “She’d need to be real dumb to even think about it. Anyway, we heard those cowhands ride by just before she came in. Stan must have changed the money while he was outside, like the boss said.”

“Sure. I think Marty’ll work out right for us,” Ella stated. “Let’s get out and see if there’s anything happening.”

“We lost some money,” Maisie pointed out.

“
I
lost some,” Ella corrected. “Don’t worry, we’ll get it back later.”

Out in the bar room Calamity joined Mousey and found the little girl bubbling with curiosity about the reason for the visit to Ella’s office.

“It wasn’t much,” Calamity answered. “The boss just wanted to know if I’d settled in all right.”

“Oh! I thought you might have been in trouble. Did you see Stan and Eddie off?”

“Yep,” Calamity smiled. “I reckon I did.” Then a thought struck her. “Say, when do I get to meet this Tommy of yours?”

“He’ll maybe come in tomorrow,” Mousey replied. “Hey, if he brings Danny Forgrave in, maybe you and him can make up a foursome with us. You’ll like Danny, he’s a real nice boy.”

Thinking of the night in the Jones cabin beyond Austin, Calamity smiled. “I reckon I might at that.”

She figured Danny would take the opportunity to come to town with Tommy and that ought to give them a chance to get together and discuss what they each had learned so far.

D
ANNY
F
OG COULD NOT TRUTHFULLY ADMIT TO
making any progress in the few days spent on the Caspar County ranges. Even with his findings of the first day, he might have been no more than an ordinary drifting cowboy who stopped off at the Bench J for work, for he knew little more about the cow stealing than when he arrived.

Clearly Ed Lyle regarded Danny as being all right when the foreman returned from tracking the remaining cow thief, then back-trailing Danny to establish that the young man had told the truth about coming from Austin City way. The foreman could find no sign that Danny had come from any other direction and so was prepared to treat him as
he would any other hand. As to the other matter, Lyle told Danny that the cow thief’s tracks disappeared on to the Rock Pile, a large, barren rocky area on the edge of the county and over which following tracks was impossible.

During the next few days Danny rode the ranges and performed the routine work of a cowhand. His skilled use of the borrowed cutting-horse when working cattle lulled any remaining suspicions the foreman might have held, for a cutting-horse was a specialist animal and the fact that Danny possessed one tended to make his pose as a drifting cowhand more acceptable. Mostly Danny worked with Tommy and from the youngster learned much about the affairs of the county. Tommy told Danny how, soon after the stealing became noticeable, Turk Stocker had the other ranchers search his spread on the Rock Pile but they found only his runty, poorly-fed stock on it. So they concluded that the cow thieves ran their stolen animals on to the Rock Pile to make tracking impossible, then could go in any direction to wherever they sold their loot. While Tommy admitted he did not care for Soskice, he said the lawyer had his uses when the sheriff picked up one of the boys. Simmonds appeared to be regarded as a harmless nuisance hired by the town to keep cowhand horse-play in bounds. Of Sammy and Pike’s behavior before their deaths, Tommy said little. It appeared that
Sammy found his “love” for Dora came real expensive, far more so than a cowhand could afford and that Pike, like the good friend he was, did what he could to further his
amigo’s
romance. Only small things came out of Danny’s talks with Tommy, yet they helped him build up a better picture of the situation in Caspar County.

When the story of how Danny stood up to the deputy and Ed Wren made the rounds, and of how he rode the Rafter O’s bay reached the ears of the other hands, he found himself regarded as being quite a feller. The feeling pleased him, for this time he had made the grade without anybody thinking of him as Dusty Fog’s kid brother and treating him to secondhand respect on that relationship.

However, when Saturday arrived, little had been done to either prevent the cow stealing or find the folks behind it. No further losses had been discovered and none of the crew went out at night to do the necessary riding needed to locate brand and deliver the stolen animals.

“Are you coming into town tonight, Danny?” Tommy asked as they rode toward the Bench J’s main buildings on Saturday afternoon.

“Reckon so. I’ve some money just itching to be spent. Are you fixing to see your gal tonight?”

“Sure am. Why don’t you get one?”

“Me? Way I see it, Tommy,
amigo,
ain’t but the
one thing worse’n getting left afoot, and that’s tying in with a good woman.”

“Compadre,”
Tommy replied soberly, “you’ll never know how wrong you are until you’ve tried it.”

“Tell you then,” grinned Danny. “Happen I find a real nice gal. I’ll think about trying it.”

After a meal in the cookshack, the two young men joined the other hands at washing, shaving and generally preparing for a trip to town. Such an occasion called for one’s better clothing and the use of one’s go-to-town horse; this latter being selected for its good appearance rather than any ability for working purposes. Once prepared, the hands mounted their horses ready for the ten-mile ride to town.

A fair crowd had already gathered in the Cattle Queen when the Bench J crew arrived. Jerome left his hands to attend to a few pieces of business around town, and some of the crew went to deal with personal affairs, but Danny and Tommy headed for the saloon.

“Hey, Maisie!” Tommy called as he entered and looked around the bar room. “Where-at’s my gal?”

“Not down yet,” Maisie replied. “Set a spell, she’ll be along.”

“Go grab a table, Tommy,” Danny suggested. “I’ll fetch in the drinks.”

While waiting for Mousey to make her appear
ance, Danny and Tommy sat at a table and drank beer. Danny looked around for some sign of Calamity, yet she did not appear to be present. Pointing out various people in the room, Tommy named them for Danny’s benefit. At last the youngster nodded to a pair of men sitting at a table between them and the stairs leading to the saloon’s private quarters.

“That’s Turk Stocker and his foreman, Dutchy Schatz,” Tommy remarked. “How the hell they manage to make that spread up on the Rock pile pay, I can’t figure.”

Danny glanced at the men. Both appeared to be tall, Stocker slim and with a whisker-stubbled face, Schatz heavier built, with close-cropped hair and a scarred face that looked tough and mean. Each man wore a gun in a contoured holster and dressed a little more prosperously than might be expected for the boss and sole hand of a run-down ranch in a most unsuitable area. From the little Danny had seen of the Rock Pile, it would prove mighty useless for profitable cattle-raising and be unlikely to provide more than a bare living for its owner. Of course, Stocker could have a side-interest such as hiding wanted outlaws to account for his wealth. Danny decided a visit to the Stocker spread might be worthwhile before his identity as a Ranger became known.

Even as Danny made his decision, he saw Mousey and another girl enter the room. Only when he took a second and longer look did Danny recognize Calamity and he decided his fears that she might have been recognized were groundless. Following the direction of Danny’s gaze, Tommy grinned broadly.

“Hey, Mousey’s done got company. Look’s a right nice gal, too.”

“Sure does,” Danny agreed.

However, before the girls could arrive at the two cowhands’ table, they had to pass where Stocker and Schatz sat. After eyeing the girls up and down, Schatz shot out a hand and caught Mousey by the arm.

“Hi, there, Mousey, gal,” he greeted in a harsh, guttural voice. “Sit down and have a drink.”

“I’ve already got one ordered,” Mousey replied, trying to pull her hand free.

“What, beer with some fool kid?” growled Schatz. “You can do better than that, little gal.”

“You let me go!” Mousey yelped.

Tommy’s chair went flying backward as he came to his feet and shot across the room. At the bar Ella caught questioning glances from her two bouncers and Ed Wren but shook her head. Things were a mite slow and Ella knew that nothing livened up a Saturday evening better than a fight, provided it did not get out of hand and she doubted if one be
tween the burly Schatz and young Tommy would go too far.

“Get your cotton-picking hands offen her, Schatz!” Tommy yelled as he rushed forward.

While Tommy did not lack guts, he showed a considerable amount of poor judgment in his method of attack. Schatz thrust himself to his feet, still holding Mousey with his left hand. Even before Tommy could land a blow, the burly man’s big fist shot out. Running in added force to a powerful blow and Tommy went down like a pole-axed steer.

“Tommy!” Mousey screeched and landed a kick on Schatz’s shin with enough force to make him howl and release her. “Tommy!” she repeated and dropped to her knees at the youngster’s side.

“Why you little whore!” Schatz snarled and started to move forward. “I’ll——!”

“Get your lousy, buffalo-mange stinking, gut-turning self away from her, lard-guts!” Calamity spat out. Lacking her whip, she reached for the neck of the nearest bottle as a means of defense.

Before Calamity could lay hands on the weapon, Schatz turned and caught her by the arm. “I likes a gal with spunk,” he told her.

“You like licking kids, too,” a cold voice cut in.

Slowly Schatz turned, pulling Calamity around after him. In that he might have counted himself lucky, for Calamity had just been preparing to
drive up her knee into his lower regions hard enough to chill down his milk for a spell. However, she refrained as she saw the speaker and hoped that Danny had learned fighting in the same school as his elder brother; because if he had, mister, that unwashed, square-headed, bristle-haired, no-account hard-case was sure as hell due for a real Texas-size shock.

“My, the cowhands are sure snuffy tonight,” said Schatz and shoved Calamity away from him, then launched a blow straight at Danny’s head.

Only this time he struck at a different proposition to his previous challenger. Danny might not be much older than Tommy, but bore the advantage of training at the hands of masters of the art of rough-house brawling.

Up came Danny’s left hand, but he did not clench his fist. With the open palm he slapped Schatz’s driving-out right arm in a snappy motion which deflected it away from him. Instantly Danny ducked under the deflected punch and took a short step forward with his left foot so as to halt slightly behind Schatz’s back. At the same time Danny brought up his right arm, across Schatz’s body to grip the burly man’s shirt at the right shoulder. Pushing hard on to the shoulder with his hand, Danny hooked his right leg behind Schatz’s left calf and thrust with it. The moves took Schatz by surprise. He gave a startled yell as
his feet left the floor and he went over to land on his back.

Calamity gave a sigh of relief. It appeared that Danny had learned fighting at the same source as did his illustrious elder brother. From the expression on Schatz’s face as he came up from the floor, Calamity figured Danny was likely to need all the learning he could lay hands on.

Watching Danny’s fists come up, Schatz charged at the blond Ranger with big hands raised to grab. Only he fell into the trap Danny laid for him. Danny did not figure to try using his fists against the bigger man—not until after setting Schatz up for them.

Suddenly and unexpectedly Danny raised his left leg and drove it out to land a stamping kick on the other’s kneecap, bringing Schatz’s rush to a sudden halt. Even as agony knifed through Schatz and he bent to clutch at the injured knee, Danny threw a right-hand punch. It landed hard and with precision on the side of Schatz’s jaw and the big man crashed to the floor again. Spitting out curses and blood, Schatz jerked the Colt from his holster but did not get a chance to use it. Danny leapt forward and stamped down with his left foot. A cowhand’s boots carried high heels designed to spoke into the ground and hold firm while roping cattle or horses on foot. Human flesh being less hard, it did not stand up well to the impact of a boot heel smash
ing down upon it. Schatz let out a screech of pain, lost his hold on the Colt and jerked up into a sitting position. Like a flash, Danny kicked up with his other leg. The boot toe caught Schatz under the jaw, snapping back his head and slamming him down again. This time he did not look like he would be getting up to make more trouble.

“Hold it, Stocker!” a voice boomed.

Hearing the order, and the accompanying click as a gun came to full cock, Stocker froze. He had only half rose and his hand still gripped the butt of his gun, but a glance at the main doors of the saloon told him the futility of going further. Holding his Remington ready for use, Jerome stood just inside the doors and Lyle leaned a shoulder against the door jamb at his boss’s side.

“Who cut you in, Jerome?” Stocker growled.

“Danny there rides for me,” answered Jerome. “What happened?”

“I’d say that Schatz just got round to picking the wrong feller,” Lyle remarked calmly, looking to where Danny stood over the burly hard-case.

Ella Watson knew better than allow such a situation to develop too far. So she thrust herself from the bar and walked across the room, taking care not to come into the line of fire.

“All right, boys,” she said. “The fun’s over.” Her eyes went to Stocker and she went on, “I’ve told you before about Schatz abusing the boys.”

“Looks like he picked on one as didn’t take to being abused,” Lyle drawled and walked to where Mousey helped Tommy to rise. “You all right, boy?”

“Just about,” Tommy answered and felt his jaw. “Where’s he at?”

“Sleeping. Got his-self all tuckered out,” grinned the foreman.

Seeing that nothing more of interest would come from the situation, the occupants of the room resumed their interrupted pleasures. Jerome watched Ella’s bouncers haul Schatz from the room, then he turned to Ella and asked what started the fuss.

“It wasn’t Danny here’s fault,” she replied, “Schatz started to rough-handle Mousey and Tommy, then Danny cut in. That boy’s some fighter. Dirty, but good.”

“Always reckoned it’s better to fight dirty and win, than fair and get all licked, ma’am,” Danny put in and turned to Calamity. “Say, how’s about taking a drink with me, Red?”

“Right with you and the name’s Marty, not Red,” she replied.

Watching the two walk away, Ella decided that an efficient young man like Danny Forgrave ought to be a valuable asset to her organization. Of late there had been a considerable amount of independence building at Stocker’s end and she guessed that the rancher might be figuring he could run the
business without her aid. Wren could take Stocker, but lacked the experience in cattle matters to handle the holding of the stolen stock. Given the right kind of bait, say plenty of money, that blond Texas cowhand might make an ideal replacement should Stocker go too far.

For a time Calamity and Danny celebrated in typical cowhand-saloon-girl style, helped by Mousey and Tommy. They had a few drinks, tried the gambling games with Tommy winning a few dollars, danced and generally enjoyed themselves. Ella watched it all, noting the way “Marty” persuaded Danny to spend more and more on her. The girl had the right idea and it seemed that Danny was struck on her. This showed in the way he blocked any other customer’s request that the girl danced or joined him. So Ella watched and waited for a chance to speak with her latest employee away from the crowd.