The Floating Outfit 44

by J. T. Edson

  Dipping a hand into his pocket Just threw the boy a coin and snapped a couple of words to him. Turning, the boy scuttled from the room, the batwing doors swinging to behind him. Just sat back, not speaking for a moment although he could see both the girls were interested in what was said.

  ‘The button says he put your gear on the sidewalk outside the stage office. I’ll go along to the blacksmith’s shop and tell ole Brazos to pick it up on the way out of town.’

  ‘That wasn’t all he said.’ Gloria’s face was grim. ‘I speak Spanish as well as you do. Who’s Lanky Kline and why did you kill him?’

  Two – Speedy Slinger

  Rene gave a low gasp as she stared at this tall, handsome and pleasant spoken young man. She looked down over the table at the butt of his gun then slowly back up at Gloria. It was hard to believe her ears, but she knew Gloria would not be joking about such a thing.

  ‘Why’d you shoot him, Just?’ Gloria went on.

  ‘He rode for Lanton’s S Star. I found him on KH land branding S Star on a KH calf. He went for his gun and I had to kill him.’

  Gloria felt relieved. The killing was completely justified by Western standards. A cattle thief was shot on the spot, or hanged if taken to trial. ‘Who’s this Lanton, he wasn’t here when I left.’

  ‘He’s the new boss of the S Star. Formed the Azul Rio Cattle Syndicate along with the Flying P, Lazy F and Estrades. KH is the only ranch not in it. The Syndicate’s been importing gun hands and looking for trouble. I didn’t want to say anything about it until your father’d seen you.’

  ‘You mean a range war?’ Gloria asked.

  ‘Not yet. That was the first trouble we’ve had with them. It could shape that way if the S Star pushes your pappy much more.’

  It was then Gloria could see the reason for her cool reception when the stage arrived. The people of the town, scenting trouble in the air, would not wish to show friendship to either side. Then she remembered Rene was not a Western girl and turned to explain something to her.

  ‘Don’t get the wrong idea about Just. He killed Lanky Kline to save his own life. The other man would have killed him if Just hadn’t shot first.’

  ‘I realize that.’ Rene’s voice was cool, neither panic nor dislike of Just Smith showing in it. ‘Papa wrote and warned me of the rough land out here. I’m sure Just was justified in shooting.’

  Just Smith could hardly believe his ears. He’d expected the English girl to be afraid of him. She looked at him, her eyes meeting his with no flinching or loathing.

  ‘What happened after the shooting?’ Gloria asked. ‘The little boy didn’t sound as if he liked Kline.’

  ‘Pepe didn’t. Kline used to bully him. Your pappy told Lanton and the sheriff what happened and warned them any other rustler would get the same. That didn’t set well with Lanton or his tame sheriff, but they haven’t made anything of it so far.’

  ‘Tame sheriff?’ Gloria inquired, for the sheriff of Azul Rio County was an old friend of the KH.

  ‘Sure, Sam Coulter was found dead over on the S Star, Flying P line. Looked like an accident. Then Lanton got this hombre Lynch put in. Made it real cozy for S Star from the start.’

  Hooves sounded outside as three riders came to the Eating House, halting their horses and swinging down. Seated facing the door Just Smith stiffened slightly and Gloria looked out under the batwing doors. The men appeared to be looking at Just’s horse, then tying their own horses to the rail they came on to the sidewalk. The batwing doors swung open and the men entered, halting just inside.

  To Gloria’s eyes, even though they wore range clothes, the three men were not cowhands. They had a look about them, the look of paid killers, men who sold their guns to the highest bidder. This was true of the two tall men who flanked the small man in the center. It was far truer of him. He was small, not much over five foot four she guessed. His clothes, from the low crowned Stetson hat to his boots were costly, but they were not the clothes of a hard-working cowhand. His face was pale with a pallor that did not speak of long hours of open air work. Around his waist was a gunbelt and in the holsters pearl handled Colt Civilian Peacemakers.

  Just Smith read the signs, and knew what this trio was doing here. Quickly he slapped his hands palm down on the tabletop in the rangeland sign for a truce. Almost imperceptibly the small man nodded in agreement and Just jerked his head in a signal which Gloria interpreted correctly.

  ‘Come on, dear.’ she shoved back her chair. ‘Let’s go and red up.’

  Without giving Rene a chance to object Gloria took her by the arm and led her towards the ladies bathroom. Opening the door Gloria gently pushed the other girl inside, following her and turning to make sure Just got an even break.

  The three men were advancing, the smallest moving with dainty and cat-footed grace. His hard, cold black eyes never left Just’s face, his hands brushed the butts of his guns.

  ‘Well, well,’ he said with well simulated pleasure. ‘If it ain’t the Texan who shot down poor ole Lanky.’

  ‘Sure Speedy,’ the man at the right agreed. ‘And after you telling that he’d got to stay clear of you. He even took your place at the hitching rail out there.’

  ‘He’s looking for trouble. Speedy,’ the other agreed.

  ‘Go move his hoss, Sam,’ the small man ordered, his eyes still on Just’s face.

  Just Smith’s mouth drew to a tight line, his chair scraped back as he came to his feet. To move another man’s horse was an unforgivable insult. From the corner of his eye he saw the two Texas men looking on, the taller swinging round in his chair. Yet Just held his temper down. He was not afraid of the small man, even though Speedy Slinger was S Star’s top gun hand. One thing was holding him back from taking up the challenge. He was under orders to fetch the two girls back to KH and he did not want any shooting while they were with him.

  ‘I’ll move it myself.’ the words were torn unwillingly from his lips.

  ‘I told you he was yeller, boys,’ Slinger hissed. ‘Real yeller, and him saying he beat Lanky in a fair fight.’

  ‘Ole Lanky was fast. Near as fast as you, Speedy. And that yeller rat tries to make out he killed Lanky in a fair fight,’ the gunman at the left went on. ‘If it was fair it makes Smith near as fast as you.’

  ‘And he ain’t. He murdered old Lanky and tries to say Lanky was a thief. Show’s he’s yeller, way he’s backing down right now.’

  ‘I’ll come back after—’ Just began, his face reddening as he fought to hold down his temper.

  ‘You’re yeller, Smith,’ Speedy Slinger was not even looking at the two young men who were watching everything. ‘You’re like all the other damned, lousy Texans, yeller as—’

  Two chairs crashed over. The two Texas men were on their feet now. Gloria got her first look at the tall man’s face and the small man’s armament. The face was as handsome as she’d ever seen, and reminded her of photographs she’d seen of classic statues of Greek gods. The small man wore a buscadero gunbelt, white handled guns butt forward in the holsters.

  ‘Mister,’ it was the smaller of the pair who spoke. ‘When you call down this gent here it’s private. When you take in the rest of us Texans it becomes personal.’

  ‘Shy out, both of you,’ Slinger warned, his voice savage. ‘This is a private fight.’

  ‘Mister,’ the blond giant replied, his voice deep and showing breeding. ‘You’ve gone past all privacy right now. The remark you made calls for some apologizing.’

  The air was suddenly charged with deadly menace. It exuded from the three hired killers but more so it came from the two soft talking young Texas men. It was then Gloria realized the small man was there. Suddenly he was more than there, he dominated the others with his presence. Speedy Slinger also realized that he was up against the real thing now. This was no pair of dressed-up boys, but were men born in the land, well able to handle themselves in any man’s fight.

  ‘Reckon you don’t know who I am,’ he said, not wanting an adde
d complication on his hands. ‘Do you know what they call me?’

  ‘Not unless it’s Shorty.’

  Slinger’s lips drew back in a snarl. He was very conscious of his lack of inches in this land of tall men. To have that small, insignificant looking cowhand call attention to the lack made the insult far worse. His hands lifted the cover over the pearl butts of the guns and his voice dropped to an angry hiss.

  ‘I’ve killed men for saying that. My name’s Speedy Slinger and they don’t call me it because I drink my likker fast.’

  ‘Maybe because you talk fast?’ the small blond asked. ‘You start in to apologizing.’

  Gloria felt relieved now. She knew the three men who must be from the S Star meant to force Just into a fight and kill him. With this intervention there might be no trouble even now. She knew why Just did not fight and admired him for it although she knew he would return to answer the insults as soon as he’d delivered them safely to the KH. It was then she caught a movement from the corner of the room and looked to where the two dudes sat. They were watching everything, hands under their coats.

  ‘Apologize to you?’ Slinger sneered. There was no chance of bluffing the two young men out so he was set to fight. ‘I’ll handle you when I’ve fixed this other lousy Texan.’

  ‘You talk real big for a small man. Now either back it or apologize.’

  There Slinger had it, the small Texan was calling the play, He would not back down, nor would his partner. Slinger was no fool, he knew why Just Smith did not fight. It was not fear that held the KH hand back. So Slinger took notice of the situation. He was backed by two good men, any advantage of the light was with him and he knew how fast he was. There was only one thing to do now. Kill Smith as intended and get those two Texans who put their bill into the game.

  ‘We’re waiting, small man,’ the blond giant said softly.

  Speedy Slinger started his move, hands making their lightning grab which had brought him victorious through several of these affairs. Even as his move began the rest of the room broke into sudden action.

  The small blond’s hands crossed in a sight-defying blur of movement, his matched, white handled guns coming out ahead of any other’s. Flame tore from the muzzles of the guns held, waist high and centering on Slinger. The bullets struck even as the little killer’s own guns were coming clear of leather. Even as Slinger was hurled backwards by the smashing impact of .45 lead, the tall blond’s guns were throwing bullets into the man who’d stood at Slinger’s right.

  Just Smith was fast with a gun, but he was not in the same class as those two Texas men. His hand dropped, gripping the butt of his gun and tilting it back, thumb easing back the hammer. Even as the muzzle of the gun lifted, still in leather, he fired, the bullet ripping into the shoulder of the third man, spinning him round. The gunman hit the batwing doors and staggered out through them. He gripped the reins of his horse, tore them free and managed to mount the horse and light out of town at a dead run, heading across the range.

  The two dudes were on their feet in the corner of the room, each now held a short barreled gun and was bringing it into line on the three Texas men. Gloria opened her mouth to scream a warning but she was too late. Her help was not needed. The men’s bathroom door was thrown open and a tall, black-haired, dark young man erupted. He was naked to the waist and his feet were bare but he held an old Colt Dragoon revolver in his right hand. He took in the situation even faster than had Gloria and roared out, ‘Dusty!’

  One of the dudes reacted fast, coming round with his short barreled gun cracking at the newcomer. The dark young man dropped even before the shot was fired, his old Dragoon gun booming louder than a cannon as he hit the floor. Gloria gave a gasping cry. She had never seen a man hit in the head with a round, soft lead ball from one of Colonel Sam’s four pound giants. It was not a pretty sight. The head seemed to burst open on the impact, the dude’s body stood erect for an instant then crashed down. Gloria turned back into the bathroom, her face ashy grey and her stomach heaving.

  The small blond came spinning round faster than a lizard hunting for cover. He dropped to one knee as he turned, right hand gun coming up and lining, bucking back in the palm of his hand even as the second dude’s bullet passed over his head, so close it stirred his hair in passing. The dude jerked under the impact of two hundred and thirty grains of lead. His gun fell from his hand, he spun round and dropped.

  Then there was silence in the room, the powder smoke wafting and blowing away. Speedy Slinger and his man were down, the two dudes still in the corner, their gun-trap, laid for Just Smith, smashed without even closing.

  The man whose timely appearance saved the small blond came to his feet. He was tall, but without the great spread of shoulders of the blond, yet there was a whipcord strength about him, and his dark frame was scarred by bullet and knife wounds. His long, curly hair was so black it almost shone blue in the light, his face innocent and young looking with red hazel eyes which were neither young nor innocent. He looked down at the bodies, then with a casual shrug, turned and walked back into the bathroom once more.

  In the women’s room Gloria recovered a grip of herself, and found Rene holding her and looked up. ‘It was terrible,’ she gasped.

  ‘Yes dear. Is Just all right?’

  ‘He’s all right. Stay here. I’ll tell the sheriff what happened, when he comes.’

  Rene shook her head. ‘No dear, this is concerning both of us.’

  ‘Sure, but I saw what happened and can explain it. I’d like to keep you out of it. Please, for me.’

  With a smile Rene agreed, her every instinct telling her to go out and stand by Just, but she knew she might say the wrong thing and make matters worse. So she stood back and watched Gloria walk out of the room and shut the door behind her.

  Henery came up, his face pale. He glanced at the doors of the Eating House and listened to the sound of approaching people. ‘I saw it all, Miss Gloria. I’m willing to testify Just did all he could to avoid a fight.’

  ‘Thanks Henery. I’ll keep you out of it if I can.’

  A fair sized crowd was gathering in the building by now, men and women crowding forward to look at the bodies and talking amongst themselves while looking at the Texans who were loading their guns and ignoring the chattering townspeople. Before Gloria could get to Just and the two Texas men there was an interruption. A man was forcing his way through the crowd, pushing them aside arrogantly. He was big, heavily built, his face coarse, brutish, the eyes piggy and small, the nose reddened by either long hours in the sun or looking at the full glare of an open whiskey bottle. His store clothes looked more expensive than a sheriff of a small New Mexico county should be able to afford. His gunbelt was an expensive gunfighter’s rig, but he did not have the look of a skilled man with a gun.

  Gloria glanced at the two men whose intervention saved Just Smith. The taller glanced at her, then half a smile flickered on his lips as if he recognized her, or thought he did. She was sure she should know him but could not believe her luck if she was right.

  By now the sheriff was through the crowd. He was about to speak when he stopped dead. His eyes went first to Just Smith, then down to the bodies. The change in him was almost ludicrous, it was almost as if he knew what to expect here and just been given a bad shock.

  ‘What come off here?’ he asked, looking down at Slinger’s body again.

  ‘Man got to damning Texas and died of it.’ there was disdain in the small Texan’s voice as he watched the play of expression on the sheriff’s face.

  The sheriff stiffened, thrusting forward his badge slightly to emphasize his position. ‘Who killed Mr. Slinger?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Cut a rusty?’ the sheriff asked, looking at the soft talking, insignificant young man, then at the others.

  The mildness seemed to fall away from the small blond and there was a subtle difference in his voice as he replied, A badge doesn’t give you that much license, mister. The man allowed he was some
fast and went to try and prove it. He died of a case of slow. You think I didn’t play fair, say so. The right way.’

  Behind the sheriff there was a stirring amongst the crowd as they prepared to get out of the firing line, for he was known to be a bad man when crossed. However, whatever his faults Sheriff Lynch was no fool. He was not a good gun himself but knew many who were. This small Texas man was as good as he’d ever seen. Who the pair of Texans were Lynch did not know. He did know they were the equal of any of the S Star hired. He could see that Slinger died in a fair fight. Slinger was too slow to match the guns of this soft spoken young man from the Lone Star State. One thing Lynch knew was that this put the Texan in a far higher class than he intended to monkey with.

  ‘No offence, mister. It’s only that Slinger was faster’n most.’ Lynch was ingratiating, his voice oily and, on the surface, friendly.

  ‘Not fast enough,’ the tall blond put in.

  Lynch chose to ignore that remark and turned his attention to Just Smith. ‘That’s three in a week, Smith. Mr. Lanton isn’t going to like this.’

  ‘I mourn for Mr. Lanton,’ Just replied. ‘And it ain’t three but five.’

  Without even looking at the bodies in the corner of the room Lynch replied, ‘They ain’t S Star men.’

  ‘Now how’d you know that, sheriff?’ the small blond put in. ‘You never even looked at them.’

  ‘They ain’t cowhands.’ Lynch looked flustered, realizing he’d made a bad mistake there.

  ‘Nor are Slinger and his pard,’ Just snapped. ‘S Star doesn’t hire a cowhand, only guns. I didn’t want trouble today or any other time. You said three in a week. Lanky Kline was putting S Star on a calf with a KH mammy.’

  ‘Which same’s again the law, they do tell me, sheriff,’ the tall blond’s tones were sardonic and he glanced at Gloria again. ‘Leastwise it is down home to Texas.’