The Floating Outfit 44

by J. T. Edson

  The rest of them turned, Dusty throwing back his chair, hands going down towards his guns. The others were staring at the open door and shape in it. Not one of them had heard the Ysabel Kid’s return and he’d come to the door silently.

  Rene stared at the Kid, looking down at his torn shirt and the bloody graze on his side. ‘Lon, you’re hurt.’

  ‘Feels that way,’ the Kid agreed, knowing the wound was more messy looking than dangerous. He’d hardly noticed it until crossing the Azul Rio and making his long and difficult ride back.

  Doc Leroy rose and came forward. He could see there was little need for haste. ‘Sit down and I’ll have a look at it.’

  ‘Not at the table with the food,’ Gloria objected. ‘Take him into the office or someplace.’

  ‘Why, thank you most to death, ma’am,’ the Kid bowed gracefully and went out with Doc.

  The others were all finished eating when Doc and the Kid returned, the latter now wearing a new black shirt. Gloria looked at him as he sat at the table and began to eat. ‘See the fire?’ she asked.

  ‘Fire?’ the Kid was all innocence. ‘What fire’s that?’

  ‘The fire over at Santone’s last night. Brit and I saw it last night as we took a stroll down to the—’ Gloria’s voice trailed off as she saw the interested looks her cousin and Dusty were giving her. ‘I went into the sitting-room and saw the bow, arrows and a lance were gone from the wall.’

  ‘Gone?’ there was still innocence in the Kid’s voice and expression. ‘You mean somebody done snuck in and stole them away?’

  ‘No,’ Gloria’s voice lifted slightly. ‘They got tired of hanging there and got down to go for a walk. What happened?’

  Rene provided an interruption. There was a worried look on her face as she looked down at the empty plates. ‘Was it alright?’ she inquired.

  It was then Gloria realized what was worrying her friend. Rene remembered what her father told her about the adverse comments every cook got. Sipping at the coffee Gloria made a wry face despite the fact that it was strong and well made. ‘You sure this is coffee?’ she asked. ‘I left some dishwashings on the table and this tastes like ’em.’

  ‘Say, Rene,’ Waco caught on fast. ‘I know us colonials ain’t very civilized but there ain’t no need to bring ham all the way from England. We’ve got some here as old and ornery.’

  ‘Eggs aren’t cooked enough either,’ Dusty went on.

  Rene smiled in a superior manner at the others, then turned to Brit. ‘Of course one must excuse these colonial cousins of ours. I have some tea in my room, if you’d care for a cup.’

  ‘Of course, dear lady. If Just will give us permission.’

  ‘You go to Santone’s, Lon?’ Dusty asked and the others were all attention as they waited for the Kid’s reply.

  ‘Why sure.’

  ‘See him?’

  ‘Him and Carron both.’

  ‘Carron, huh!’ Dusty lounged back in his chair. ‘He cashed?’

  ‘Ended that way. You called it right when you said he’d run there.’

  ‘How about Santone?’

  ‘He didn’t look any too good. His place got alight somehow. Don’t reckon they saved much of it. I took a long way back, hid my tracks some.’

  Slowly the full story was dragged from the Kid. Rene watched him in horror almost, wondering how one who looked so young and innocent could be deadly. Passing him in the street as a chance stranger she would have taken him for a pleasant youngster of not more than sixteen. She knew he was far older than sixteen years, that he was savage and dangerous. She also knew his deadliness was an asset to them now. She could feel but little pity for the man who caused her father’s death yet she knew Santone died an even more terrible death himself.

  ‘I lost your lance,’ the Kid remarked apologetically to Gloria. ‘Must have left it lying round someplace.’

  ‘Wouldn’t be laying in Santone, would it?’ she replied. ‘I know what you damned Comanches are when you get a lance in your hands.’

  ‘All right,’ Dusty cut across the Ysabel Kid’s protests that he was harmless as a newborn babe. ‘I reckon Lanton will know about the fire by now and he’s likely sent men to help Lazy F. He’ll know it was one of us and can make a good guess which one. They’re going to hit back at us. Have to or lose face. Brit, you take Cousin Red and Waco and ride the S Star line. Turn back any of them who try and come our way. Just, you, Mark and Lon ride the Lazy F line and do the same.’

  ‘But Lon’s wounded,’ Rene put it. ‘He can’t ride with the others.’

  ‘Why surely not,’ the Kid agreed with a grin. ‘I’ll just head up to my bed and –’

  ‘You can stay back here if you want.’ Dusty’s voice was mild, deceptively mild to one who knew him as well as the Ysabel Kid did. ‘I was down to the backhouse and the hole’s near to full. You can stay back and dig a nice big, fresh hole if you like.’

  The Ysabel Kid came to his feet, making for the door. ‘Great climate this. I feel better already. I’ll get my hat and boots, then be with you pair.’

  ‘How about us, Dusty?’ Gloria asked. ‘What do we do while the others are out riding the line?’

  ‘Work on the defenses of this place. I’ll find you plenty to do, don’t you worry about that.’

  Brit, Waco and Red rode the banks of the Azul Rio, alert and watchful. The country was scrub and rock covered and would offer them protection if they should find the S Star men. There was only one reasonable ford along this stretch of the river, for the rest it ran deep and fairly fast. Brit brought his horse to a halt near the ford.

  ‘It might be advisable to watch this ford for a time,’ he remarked. ‘If they’re coming, this is where they’ll make the crossing.’

  The other two agreed with this and led their horses back out of tight. Then they all made their way towards the ford and took cover among the rocks. They were hardly in place when they heard horses approaching and saw a bunch of twenty or so men riding towards the other side of the ford.

  ‘What now, perfessor?’ Waco asked.

  ‘Can’t have them over here, old chappie. Dusty would never approve. Have to dissuade them. What!’

  Red lifted his old Spencer carbine and grinned at Brit. ‘You mean shoot at them?’

  ‘Have to warn them first. Wouldn’t be sporting to down a sitting bird,’ Brit replied, then raised his voice. ‘Turn back, you blighters.’

  Waco flipped the lever of his Winchester and backed up the shout. ‘You do what Brit says. You’ll likely offend him if you don’t.’

  The S Star men brought their horses to a halt, hands grabbing down for their rifles. They did not know how many men were on the other side of the Azul Rio and did not intend making a charge to find out. One of the men brought up his rifle, firing fast. His bullet hit the rock Waco was kneeling behind and the flat bark of Waco’s Winchester echoed the shot. The S Star man’s hat spun from his head and the others whirled their horses to head for the scrub out of sight.

  ‘Would appear to have gone home,’ Brit remarked in a tone which showed annoyance rather than pleasure.

  ‘Nope, they’ve left their hosses in the trees. They’ll be moving in on foot,’ Waco answered. ‘Look, there’s the first of them.’

  The S Star men were darting from cover to cover, rifles held ready. One of them flattened down behind a rock and fired at Waco’s hiding place.

  ‘Chappies don’t appear to like you, Waco,’ Brit drawled, his rifle cracking back.

  The long range fight was a stalemate on the face of it. From KH’s view it was satisfactory apart from the fact that they could not leave the ford. S Star were pinned down on the other side but if the defenders pulled out would be free to cross.

  Shoving fresh loads into the breech of his smoking rifle Waco looked across the river. He lined and fired at a man whose shooting was becoming distressingly accurate. The man’s shoulder was showing from behind his hiding place and Waco’s lead smashed into it.

  �
�How far is it to S Star?’

  Brit looked round at Waco. ‘Three, four miles.’

  ‘Man’d surely have some sore feet if he walked all that way in high-heeled boots.’

  Red glanced at Waco with suspicion. ‘What you thinking about, boy?’

  ‘Make ’em walk home. We can’t hold them down here forever and they can waste more shells than we can. I’m going to stampede their horses.’

  Brit frowned. ‘May I point out their horses are at the other side of the river?’

  ‘Why sure. Good thing I learned to swim.’

  ‘Fool chance your taking, boy,’ Red pointed out.

  ‘You got a better idea?’

  Red grinned. He knew there would be no point in arguing if Waco’s mind was made up. ‘All right. Watch yourself, boy, and leave your rifle. I reckon they know how many of us are here and they’ll think things if one rifle stops.’

  Waco slid his rifle to Brit and tossed a full box of .44 rimfire bullets down beside it. Then he slid back from his rock, moving carefully and keeping out of sight of the opposing side. He made his way back to his horse and unfastened the yellow oilskin slicker from his cantle. The yellow fish as it was called by the Texas cowhand, would be of use to him when he swam the river. Moving through the brush towards the river Waco heard the different sounds of three weapons, the deep bellow of Red’s old Spencer, the flat crack of his yellow boy and the harder crack of Brit’s new model Winchester. The other two were making a very creditable impersonation of three hardy defenders.

  At the side of the river he halted and removed the gunbelt to wrap it in his fish. He moved with caution now, looking carefully out over the banks of the river. The S Star were all concentrating their attention on the ford, firing at Brit and Red. Waco listened for a moment, then darted forward and into the water. The river bed fell away sharply here and Waco was swimming almost as soon as he hit the water. Ducking under the surface he swam under water, hindered by the fish wrapped gunbelt. The water ran fast here but Waco was a strong swimmer and found little difficulty in getting across the river.

  Waco’s head broke water, his every instinct alert. He looked upstream but could see nothing much of the S Star men. The banks here were more open, there was some fifteen feet of grass without cover to be crossed before Waco could get into cover. He came from the water fast and went in trees without attracting the attention of the S Star men. In the trees Waco dropped and lay still, listening. He sat up behind a scrub oak and removed his boots to pour water from them. This was more in the interest of silence than for comfort. Then he unrolled his fish and left it lying under a tree while he strapped on his gunbelt. The fish was waterproofed and kept both gunbelt and Colts dry.

  A horse whickered off to the right of him and Waco moved into the trees, avoiding making any sound as he flitted through. He dropped to the ground as he heard the stamping of horses near at hand, crawling forward on his stomach. The S Star horses were bunched in a clearing, fastened to the bushes. A man was standing guard on the horses, his attention to the river and the fight.

  The guard was leaning his shoulder against a tree, the stub of a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. He took it from between his lips and stubbed it out, then took out his makings and rolled a fresh smoke. Waco watched the man make his cigarette and stick it into his mouth, then cupping his hands round as he tried to light the smoke.

  Waco’s right hand Colt came out, the hammer sliding back under his thumb. ‘Just hold your hands where they are, friend!’

  The man stiffened for a moment, but his control was good and he did not move his hands. He saw the Texan emerge from behind the tree, his clothes dripping water. Wet though he might be, the Texan’s gun was lined and showed no sign of wavering. Removing the knife from his pocket Waco flicked the blade open and went crab wise towards the horses, keeping the gunman covered all the time.

  The razor sharp knife cut through the reins of the first horse. Waco moved to the next still keeping the gunman covered. The man stood still, his hands held in front of his face. He was not taking any chance with as efficient acting a young man as this. He stood fast until the last of the horses was cut free.

  ‘Fletch!’ a voice yelled and the sound of men approaching came to Waco’s ears.

  The gunman hurled to one side, his hands dropping towards the butts of his guns. Waco’s Colt swung down, following the man as if drawn by a magnet. He released the hammer and saw the man’s body jerk under the impact of the heavy bullet. The horses broke at the shot and several men came into the clearing. The young Texan’s gun roared out, fanning fast shots across the open at the men. He knew he had to get out of here and fast. The gunmen hit the ground at his first shot but their rifles were lining. A horse raced by Waco, there was neither time nor chance to mount it. His left hand, letting the knife fall, caught the saddle horn, his left foot hooking into the stirrup.

  From behind him he heard shots and the flat slap of bullets as they missed him. One of the shots sent a bullet through the ear of the horse. With a scream of pain the animal hurled right for the trees, going through them as if they were not there. Waco clung on. He’d managed to holster his gun by now and used his right hand to fend off the branches as well as he could. He knew that if he came off the horse he would be under the guns of the S Star men, who were even now racing through the trees and trying to get a clear shot at him.

  Then the panic-stricken horse hurled out of the trees and on to the banks of the Azul Rio. Waco was still clinging to the saddle, his shirt ripped and vicious scratches showing where branches had torn at him. He was in worse danger now. The horse saw the river ahead and swung away, heading straight for the ford and the S Star men. They heard the hooves and the shouting, making a shrewd guess what was happening. Men leapt from the safety of the rocks, bringing up their rifles.

  Across the river Red and Brit saw Waco’s sudden appearance and knew his danger. Their weapons began to crack out, worked as fast as hands could move, pouring lead across at the S Star gunmen. One of the men lining on Waco crumpled and fell, a second hunched forward and went down.

  Even with this covering fire Waco was in trouble, the horse was running at full gallop for the ford. He was on the flank away from the river. Kicking free his foot Waco hit the ground, still holding the horn. He came up again in a lithe bound, landing on the saddle. A bullet just missed his head and he saw the shooter knocked staggering by a bullet from Red’s old carbine. Then he brought his leg up, over the saddlehorn and kicked his right foot free, leaping from the racing horse. Lighting down on the run Waco dived for the river, bullets tore around him and nothing was ever so pleasant as the water when he felt it close over his head.

  Under water he allowed the current to carry him downstream until he was forced to come up for air. The S Star men were watching for him and geysers of water erupted around his head. Hurriedly gulping down fresh air Waco went under again, swimming for the KH shore. He stayed under until he thought his lungs would burst, then came up again, this time getting out of range and striking for the KH bank. A bullet fanned over his head as he dragged himself from the water and to the safety of the scrub oaks. There he lay hidden from the S Star men for a time and at last, getting his breath back, he started upstream towards his friends.

  Red Blaze looked as Waco dropped alongside him. ‘Don’t you ever go and pull a fool trick like that again, boy. I wouldn’t want to explain to Dusty how you got shot making a raid on S Star and couldn’t stop your hoss.’

  ‘Damn fool hoss,’ Waco answered, grinning wryly. ‘He got a bullet nick and took out like the devil after a yearling.’

  From his rock Brit looked Waco over. ‘Now I’d have thought you were making a charge at them. You colonial fellers never show any sense. Are you going to tell them, or do I?’

  ‘Hey S Star!’ Waco yelled.

  ‘Yeah!’

  ‘I hope you enjoy walking home. Your bosses won’t stop running for a week. We’re pulling out now. Going to have a ri
de all the way home. Be there in time for chow.’

  An explosive volley of bad language came back across the river. The S Star men were left afoot and faced with a long walk back to their home outfit. A walk which would not be made any easier by the high-heeled boots they were wearing. Any attack on KH was out of the question right now. It would be plain suicide.

  ‘Such language,’ Brit called. ‘You should be ashamed of yourselves. Come on, chaps. Let’s away.’

  Lanton paced the room in the S Star that night. His face was pale with rage, the gash on his cheek showing livid and angry. His attempt on the KH was a failure.

  ‘Santone dead!’ he bellowed for the tenth time. ‘The Lazy F burned to the ground.’

  ‘Didn’t do Carron or Holmes any good either,’ Painthoss put in with sardonic pleasure. ‘They do tell it was an Injun done it.’

  ‘Indian!’ Lanton picked the Comanche war lance up from the table. ‘It was no Indian. It was that damned, black dressed heller who rides the white stallion. I told Lynch to take a posse from town and bring him in.’

  ‘Townfolks won’t do it, Lanton,’ Painthoss looked at Juanita Estradre as she sat reading a book. ‘They’ll stay neutral in this, more so now they know Cap’n Fog and his pards are siding KH. That gives KH a better than even chance.’

  The annoying thing to Lanton was he knew this was true. Lynch was not over-eager at the idea of trying to get a posse of townsmen to help him bring in the Ysabel Kid. He knew that anything less than a small army would have no chance against KH. He also knew the townspeople would not openly take sides either for or against KH. Any attempt to force them into doing such a thing would make S Star more enemies than friends.

  ‘You look like you’ve bit off more than you can chew.’

  ‘Have I!’ Lanton snarled. ‘I’ve told Gogan, Winters and Willet to get word out for more men. Don’t you forget I’m running this Syndicate and that the federal law might like to know who you really are.’

  Painthoss looked at the fat man. ‘One day you’re going to push that too far, Lanton. Give this up. Miss Estradre and I’ll let you have the Lazy F and not bother about that agreement that the property of a member of the Syndicate who dies going to the others. You can have both spreads, call off the war with KH and break up the Syndicate.’