Trouble Trail (15 page)

‘Of course,’ chorused the other two. Then Eileen went on, ‘How about you and Beau?’

‘His train goes on to California, they can’t spare him, and Dobe’s outfit’s headed east, which same he needs me to handle my wagon.’

Calamity’s friends thought they detected a wistful note in her voice and felt a married woman’s superior pity for an unmarried friend. Before they could start to express their thoughts, a knock came at the door and Eileen opened it to admit Dobe Killem. The big freighter held a sheet of paper and his face bore a wide grin.

‘Rider just come in from Connel, Calam, gal,’ he said, after greeting the assembled ladies. ‘The Army’s done give us a contract to go back to St. Jo and down river to New Orleans to collect ‘em a bunch of hosses.’

‘New Orleans!’ whooped Calamity. ‘When do we start?’

‘So much for our concern over the poor girl losing her man,’ sighed Molly.

From outside came the rumbling of a wagon, then others as the train started once more on its way west. Calamity did not offer to rise and walk to the window to see them go. Sure they had been her friends, maybe Beau had been a mite more than a friend. Likely she and the big scout might never meet again. Neither of them went much for saying goodbye and had parted that morning knowing their paths could cross again or not, depending on fate.

Already Calamity was thinking of the old French city of New Orleans, she had never been to such a fancy place and wondered what it held in store for her. That was ever Calamity’s way. Never live in the past. Yesterday was gone forever, only tomorrow lay ahead and who knew what tomorrow would bring?

At the head of the train Beau Resin thought of Calamity and grinned. Now there was a gal to remember. He sure hoped old
Ka-Dih
would fix it so their paths crossed again some time while both were young and lusty enough to enjoy it. Slouching easily in his saddle, he listened to the voices of the train’s children lifted in a mighty appropriate song.

‘Calamity, Calamity,

The best danged gal you ever did see,

There’ll never be, there’ll never be,

Another gal like Calamity,’

COMANCHE
by
J. T. EDSON

His grandfather was Long Walker, famed war chief in the Pehnanne band of the Comanche nation. Although the Pehnanne medicine man named him Louncey Dalton Ysabel to his people he was Cuchilo The Knife. When the Mexicans along the Rio Grande came to know him, they called him el Cabrito, The Kid. Among the Texans he gained yet another name . . . they called him the Ysabel Kid.

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