Running Irons (13 page)

Relief hit Danny as he heard Tommy’s response. While the youngster’s voice sounded a mite strained and odd, it held nothing to make the other men suspicious. If they noticed the difference, they would put it down to his nervousness at becoming a cow thief. More than that, the youngster had given the one reason which might turn a loyal cowhand into a cow thief; Stocker had seen at least two other hands go the same way.

Everything appeared to be going the right way, Danny decided—then Schatz, still smarting under his defeat at Danny’s hands, damned nigh blew the whole thing into the air. A nasty snigger left the big hard-case at Tommy’s words.

“So you’re fixing to marry that——” Schatz began.

“Call him off, Turk!” Danny interrupted before the other could finish his insulting words. “If he doesn’t stop, I’ll muzzle him. And you watch the cattle, Tommy, we don’t want to lose ’em now.”

The low-spoken warning prevented Tommy
spoiling the business at hand. Like Danny knew, the youngster tended to get a mite hot-headed where Mousey was concerned. Normally Danny would have regarded the loyalty to a feller’s gal as being praiseworthy and expect one to defend his sweetheart’s honor; but he did not want Tommy tangling with Schatz until after they had finished their business.

Stocker also appeared to desire peace. Being a businessman, if one engaged in an illegal business, Stocker had an eye on his profit and loss account. While he would be paying Danny double the price given to the more naïve local hands, Stocker figured the young cowboy would be worth it. Even in the darkness he could form some idea of the quality of the stock Danny brought for sale. The cattle appeared to be two to three-year-old animals, ideal for marketing and most likely Danny Forgrave knew where more of them could be gathered. So Stocker did not want trouble.

“Go get the lantern, Dutchy,” he ordered. “And leave Tommy be, we don’t want any fuss. No offense meant, Tommy.”

“None took, neither,” Danny answered for his young friend. “You sounded a mite edgy when we rode up, Turk.”

“So’d you be in my place. It don’t do to take chances.”

“Sure admire to be working with a careful
man,” Danny drawled. “We’ve only brought twenty head this time.”

“Mind if I look ’em over?” asked the rancher.

“Feel free,” replied Danny.

Clearly Stocker had the cow stealing business well organized. On his return from the clump of trees Schatz carried a bull’s-eye lantern and directed its light on the “stolen” stock. While a longhorn was dangerous to a man afoot, one could approach the animal while riding a horse without any great risk. Closing on the twenty head, Stocker examined their running iron brands in the light of the lantern. Watching the two men, Danny felt tension mounting on him but held it in check. His right hand rested on the butt of his off-side Colt, for if Stocker discovered the sleeper brands under the cattle’s bellies Danny reckoned he would need a gun in a hell of a hurry. Across at the far side of the small bunch of cattle, Tommy felt sweat trickle down his face. The youngster twisted restlessly in his saddle and looked toward Danny; but his nervousness attracted no attention for Stocker and Schatz had become used to such a reaction from the cowhands they dealt with when handing over the stolen stock.

After checking each animal in turn, Stocker nodded and Schatz closed the front of the lantern. The rancher rode to where Danny sat his
sabino
and nodded in approval.

“They’ll do, Danny. We can use more stuff like this, and I’ll keep paying you ten dollars a head—only don’t mention it to anybody else.”

“You figure a fair profit for yourself, Turk,” Danny replied.

“Hell, they don’t cost you anything. And I’ve overheads to meet out of my end,” the rancher objected.

“Likely. Want Tommy and me to lend you a hand to move them?”

“Nope. You’d best not be out too late, you don’t want to get Buck Jerome all suspicious.”

Danny had not expected finding the hideout for the stolen stock to be so easy and was not wrong, however, a man always liked to try to smooth his path if he could. So he went on with something he must not forget to ask.

“How’ll I let you know when I’ve some more for sale?”

“Go to the Cattle Queen. If I’m not there, leave word with Miss Ella. Say you’ve found some of my strays and want to deliver ’em. She’ll pass the word to me and I’ll meet you here at around midnight the following night.”

“Mighty obliging lady, Miss Ella.”

“Sure,” the rancher agreed, then went on just a shade too quickly. “She don’t know a thing about what I’m doing. When you go in ask her for the envelope the man left and she’ll give it to you. You’ll
find the money for this lot in it. Only don’t mention any names.”

“I won’t,” Danny promised. “See you, Turk.”

Turning, Danny rode to where Tommy sat waiting for him at the rear of the bunch of cattle. Just as he reached the youngster, Danny heard the drumming of hooves. Somebody was riding through the night, coming in their direction at a fair speed. One thing Danny knew for sure. The newcomer would not be bringing news of joy and good cheer for him and his young friend.

“Coming from town,” Tommy said in a low voice, showing again how clear-headed he could be.

“Get set for trouble,” Danny replied, swinging his horse to face the suddenly alert and suspicious Stocker and Schatz.

“Stacker!” yelled the fast-riding shape as it drew closer. “Danny Forgrave’s a Ranger. Get him!”

B
USINESS WAS SLACK IN THE
C
ATTLE
Q
UEEN
. O
NLY
Wally Stirton, boss of the Rafter O, a few of his hands and a handful of townsmen used the bar room. Calamity Jane and Mousey sat at a table clear of the men, idly talking and waiting for customers to arrive. Phyl crossed the room and came to a halt by the two girls.

“Aren’t your fellers coming in tonight?” she asked.

“Don’t look like it,” Calamity replied. “It’s gone nine now and no sign of them. They’d’ve been in afore this if they was coming.”

“Things are always quiet on Wednesdays,” Mousey went on.

At that moment the batwing doors opened and a man entered, halting just inside to look around. Yet he did not have the watchful caution of a hard-case gun fighter who might find enemies inside and wanted his eyes to grow accustomed to the bar’s lights after coming from the darkness. Glancing at the door, Calamity stiffened slightly; recognizing Jake Jacobs, the pedlar who sold information to peace officers. For a moment Jacobs stood at the door, then he walked forward in the direction of Phyl and the other two girls. Calamity felt Jacobs’s eyes studying her with more than normal care. Maybe he recognized her, although she doubted it. As far as she knew, the pedlar left Austin before she arrived, but he might remember her from some other town. Calamity decided she must find out what brought the man to Caspar.

“Where’s the boss, Phyl?” Jacobs asked, giving Calamity another long, searching look then turning to the buxom redhead.

“Up to her office. You want to see her about something important?”

“She’ll think so.”

Phyl studied the man for a long moment. Knowing that Ella was preparing to ride out and visit Stocker, Phyl did not wish to disturb her boss. However, Phyl knew that Jacobs often brought news of importance and so decided to take him upstairs.

“Let’s go see her then,” Phyl said. “Only she’ll for sure blister your hide if it’s not important.”

Watching Phyl and Jacobs make for the stairs, Calamity decided she must try to learn what brought the pedlar to town. A couple of the cowhands drifted over and asked Calamity and Mousey to join them. Rising, Calamity told Mousey to go ahead and she would sit in once she had been upstairs to collect a handkerchief.

By the time Calamity reached the head of the stairs she found that Phyl and the pedlar were just entering Ella’s room. Calamity waited until the door closed, then walked over and halted by it. Glancing along the passage, she could see no sign of life. However, she wished she knew where Maisie might be as the big brunette had not been in the bar room. Calamity did not wish to be caught eavesdropping at Ella’s door, especially by Maisie for the brunette disliked her due to her friendship with Phyl. Seeing no sign of Maisie or any of the other girls, Calamity placed her ear close to the door and listened to the muffled, but audible conversation inside. She only heard a few words before deciding it had been a good idea to come up and take a chance to discover Jacobs’s business.

In the room Ella Watson sat behind the table and looked at Jacobs with cold, speculative eyes. For his part, Jacobs stared back with frank interest. On
his arrival, Ella had been about to change into the clothes she wore when riding the range on visits to the stolen stock’s hiding place. At such a time Ella wore men’s clothing with only a pair of drawers beneath the shirt, levis, boots and jacket out of sight and pulled on her robe. While this covered her naked torso, it gave more than a hint of her state of undress underneath.

“This’s private, Miss Ella,” Jacobs said, glancing at Phyl.

“Likely,” the saloonkeeper replied. “Spit it out, Jake, and put your eyes back in, it won’t do you any good.”

“I got something to tell you,” the pedlar told her, jerking his eyes away from the valley between her breasts.

“I didn’t think you’d just dropped in to pass the time of day.”

“Just come up from Austin way,” Jacobs went on, not put out by her apparent lack of interest.

“So?” asked Ella calmly, although she did not feel calm inside. The nearest company of Texas Rangers had their base in Austin as she well knew.

“So I heard something as might interest the right folks up here.”

“I’m busy and tired, Jake. Come to the point, or let’s miss you?”

“I’m a poor man, Miss Ella,” the pedlar whined. “Not like these cow thieves up this ways.”

“Let’s have it!” Ella spat out, opening the table drawer and taking out a five-dollar bill. “Damned if I know why I’m bothering, but if you’ve something interesting you can have the five.”

“I hear tell Cap’n Murat’s sent a feller up here to bust the cow thieves.”

“Why should that interest me?” Ella asked, trying to keep her voice normal although her throat felt dry and her body cold.

“No reason—’Cepting that if this feller does it, you’ll lose a fair few good customers.”

“Hey——!” Phyl began.

“I see,” Ella interrupted.

Only with an effort could she hold her voice even and Phyl’s obvious agitation drew a warning scowl from Ella. Annoyance at the red-head’s reactions stiffened Ella and enabled her to hide her true feelings. Clearly the pedlar knew something. In some way he must have learned that she ran the cow-stealing organization. Yet he could not know, unless—at that moment Ella remembered a remark passed a few days before, about her bartender’s friendship with Jacobs. Izzy must have sold her out, either accidentally or deliberately. Well, that matter could wait until later. More important right now was to discover the identity of the man sent by Captain Murat. Ella did not underestimate the Texas Rangers. The trouble with a Ranger was that he wore no uniform and kept his badge con
cealed. There had been one new arrival in the area who claimed to have come from down Austin way, she recalled.

“All right,” she said. “Supposing I give a damn for my customers! Who is this Ranger?”

“Like I said, ma’am——” Jacobs started to say.

“I know,” Ella cut in, “you’re a poor man. Here’s twenty dollars. Who is he, Jake?”

There she had the pedlar, but he did not intend to mention the point. While Jacobs had gathered a vague rumor that a Ranger left town headed for Caspar County, he could not learn which member of Company “G” was assigned to the task. However, Jacobs could put two and two together so as to come up with a reasonable answer.

“One of them fellers brought in Choya’s bunch of
Comancheros
a few days back. Only he’s not in town any more, left near on as soon as he come in. I figure he’s the one.”

“And his name?” asked Ella.

“Danny Fog. He’s Dusty Fog’s kid brother.”

This time Ella could not hold down her startled gasp. Danny Fog—Danny Forgrave—it must be true. Ed Wren claimed that Forgrave reminded him of the Rio Hondo gun wizard. So he would if he was Dusty Fog’s younger brother.

“What does he look like?” she snapped.

“Tall, blond, youngish, not bad looking. Rode a big
sabino
stallion last time I saw him.”

“Forgrave!” Ella and Phyl said at the same moment.

Even as they spoke the door of the room flew open.

Calamity had just figured that she must find some way of warning Danny of his danger when she found she had troubles of her own. So interested in the conversation had she been, that she forgot to stay alert. Maisie stepped from her room, took in the sight and crept stealthily along the passage toward the listening Calamity. Instead of hearing the gentle pad of bare feet, Calamity missed the sound. The first knowledge she had of Maisie’s presence being when one hand gripped the scruff of her neck and another jerked her arm up behind her back.

Dropping the hand from Calamity’s neck, Maisie twisted on Ella’s door handle and pushed open the door. Before Calamity could make a move to prevent it, she was shoved into the room.

“What’s all this, Maisie?” Ella asked.

“I just caught her listening at the door, boss.”

Pain in her trapped arm, and a natural aversion to being pushed around, caused Calamity to take action. Lifting her foot, she stamped the heel down hard on Maisie’s foot. The big brunette let out a screech of pain and released Calamity’s arm, then started to hop on her other leg, clutching at the injured toes. Before Calamity could turn and take
the matter further, Phyl leapt forward and pushed her against the wall. Even as Calamity tensed to throw herself into the attack, Ella rose, jerking open the table’s drawer and bringing out the Remington Double Derringer which took Gooch’s life.

“Now just hold it right there!” the saloonkeeper ordered. “Phyl, take her gun. Keep back, Maisie.”

The latter warning came as the brunette prepared to hurl herself at Calamity and take reprisals for the vicious stamp on her foot. Knowing her boss’s temper, Maisie halted and watched, scowling and muttering to herself, as Calamity stood still and allowed Phyl to pull up her skirt and remove the Derringer from its garter holster.

“She’s a liar, boss!” Calamity yelped, getting her defense in before the attack began. “I’d only just come up here.”

“She was listening, boss!” Maisie screeched.

“All right! Shut it, both of you!” Ella spat out. Her fingers drummed on the table top, then she frowned as she remembered that Calamity came to town from Austin. “How many Rangers did Murat send, Jake?”

“One. That Danny Fog like I told you,” the man replied, staring at Calamity once more. “Say, I seen that gal afore somewheres.”

“In the Golden Slipper at Austin, you skinny goat!” Calamity snapped. “You come up here to tell the boss how I got throwed out of town. I
knew you’d got me marked down from the minute you come into the bar downstairs.”

“Hell, you saw the way he looked at me right from when he come in, Phyl,” Calamity said, turning to the red-head.

“He sure did, boss,” Phyl agreed and glared at Maisie as the girl gave a disbelieving sniff.

“How about it, Jake?” Ella inquired.

“Sure I looked at her. Thought I’d seen her around someplace. Only I don’t reckon it was in Austin.”

“Where’d it be?” asked Maisie, going back to rubbing her aching foot.

“Sure it was Austin, you danged fool!” howled Calamity. “You come here to tell the boss that I’d been run out of town. I’ve heard about you.”

“What’ve you heard, Marty?” purred Ella, watching the Jewish pedlar’s face rather than studying Calamity’s expression.

“That he’d sell his own mother if he thought the price was right,” Calamity replied. “Hell, I saw him talking to Cap’n Murat down a back street in Austin a couple of days before——”

“That’s a damned lie!” Jacobs screeched, and no other word could describe the sound.

“Just stay right where you are, Jake!” Ella ordered, swinging the Derringer in the pedlar’s direction.

“Hell, Miss Ella,” whined the pedlar nervously.
“Murat only stopped me to ask about a gun I’d tried to get for him.”

The pedlar did not make his words sound very convincing and Ella’s suspicions deepened. If “Marty” told the truth, Jacobs would just have reached Austin after his visit to Caspar City. So he might have been selling information which brought Danny Fog to Caspar.

“All right, Jake,” Ella said. “I believe you. You’d better get going and let me talk with Marty here.”

Turning, Jacobs hurried from the room. His one desire was to collect his wagon and put as many miles as possible between himself and Caspar City, for Ella’s words had not fooled him at all.

“You letting him go, boss?” Maisie asked after Jacobs left.

“Go get Wren,” replied Ella, which answered the question after a fashion. When Maisie left the room, Ella turned her eyes to Calamity. “I’m not sure about you, Marty. Hold her until I get back, Phyl.”

“Sure, boss,” Phyl replied. “Come on, Marty, we’ll wait in my room.”

“Wait,” Ella ordered, rising and removing her robe. “You saw a lot of Danny Forgrave, Marty. Do you think he might be a Ranger?”

Calamity’s first instinct was to scoff at the idea, then she decided not to appear certain. She figured
Danny could take care of himself, and had her own escape to think about.

“Seemed a mite slicker than most cowhands,” she admitted. “Only I thought he was just more crooked than most.”

Which just about coincided with Ella’s judgment of Danny’s character. The saloonkeeper drew on the man’s shirt, taken from its hiding place and slipped into a pair of levis pants. Watching Ella, Calamity remembered what Danny told her about Gooch’s death. Calamity studied the bare flesh under the shirt as Ella fastened its buttons and formed her own conclusions.

A knock sounded on the door as Ella finished buttoning the levis. She called “Come in!” looking at Phyl and Calamity as Wren entered followed by Maisie. “Take Marty to your room, Phyl,” Ella went on.

“I’ll go with her,” Maisie growled.

Anger etched a scowl on Phyl’s face, but she did not argue. Phyl and Maisie escorted Calamity to their room, leaving Ella to give orders to the cold-eyed hired killer.

Although she hid the fact, Calamity felt worried. Danny Fog’s life hung in the balance and somehow she must try to escape then warn him that his secret had been sold out. Yet before she could do anything, Calamity must escape from the two buxom, powerful boss-girls. For once in her life
Calamity knew fighting was not the answer. She might be able to take one or the other girl, but not both at once; and even against one of them, skilled bar room brawlers that they were, she would be in no condition to make a hard ride straight after the fight.

The boss-girls shared a room slightly bigger, but not much better equipped than the type used by the ordinary female workers. On entering, Maisie leaned her back against the door and stood scowling at Calamity. None of them spoke for almost ten minutes. Calamity sat on the edge of Phyl’s bed and the redheaded boss-girl crossed the room to look out of the window.

“Girlie,” Maisie finally said, “I sure as hell hope you don’t come up with the right answers.”

“Why?” asked Calamity. “So it’ll put Phyl in bad with the boss.”

Turning from the window, after seeing Wren and Ella leave by the side door, Phyl scowled across the room at Maisie. Suspicion glowed in the red-head’s eyes and she said: