The Floating Outfit 44

by J. T. Edson

  ‘And fall right down again,’ Gloria answered. ‘Doc says you stop in bed and stop you will.’

  Painthoss knew he was more of a liability than an asset to the defenders of the house if he was on his feet. He did not mean to give up his attempt to help without a struggle. Then he saw Red Blaze standing behind the girl, holding an old Spencer carbine which he waggled derisively at the rancher and made gestures as if he was shooting from the window.

  ‘Then get that red topped heller out of here!’ Painthoss howled like a trap-caught wolf. ‘He keeps riling n . Just look at him.’

  Gloria swung around but Red was making a very creditable picture of a keen and alert sentry. She turned back to the bed; and swung back fast to catch Red once more making more signs. She grabbed up a boot and hurled it with a good aim right at Red’s head. He ducked and grinned. ‘All right, I’ll be good.’

  Gloria left the room and went to the sitting-room downstairs. She found Brit at the table loading a spare rifle. For once his monocle was not in his eye. It lay on the table and she saw the chance to do what she’d wanted to ever since she met him. Going forward she picked up the monocle and looked through it. ‘You old faker. It’s plain glass.’

  ‘Of course,’ Brit did not appear to be distressed, ‘a chappie has to have a monocle, don’t you know.’

  From upstairs they heard the bellow of Red’s Spencer, at the same moment the windows of their room burst and bullets smashed into walls. Brit caught the girl’s arm and thrust her to the floor. He caught up his rifle and dived across the room to where Doc was already in place and looking out.

  ‘They’re in the bosque,’ Doc remarked. ‘Fair slew of them from all I can see.’

  Brit flattened himself against the wall, looking out. Lead still came slashing at the house from the trees. ‘Strange, I can’t see what they hope to gain by this. They can’t get at us across that open land. Two hundred or more yards without cover and faced with men who can handle rifles.’

  ‘Likely we’ll soon find out,’ Doc answered.

  Juanita Estradre stood beside the leaders of the Star hired guns. Gogan looked down at her and gave her a shove towards the opening of the tunnel his men had just uncovered. ‘Get going. You start the boys shooting at KH, Winter. We’ll likely be making some noise in that tunnel and it’ll help cover us.’

  Winter walked away to give his orders. Even as Juanita walked towards the dark opening she heard the crack of rifles and knew the KH were fighting with no knowledge of their danger. ‘It is many years since I last used the tunnel,’ she said. ‘It may be blocked.’

  ‘You’d better start in to praying it ain’t.’

  Pushing the girl forward Gogan took a ten gauge shotgun from one of the men standing by. At the mouth of the tunnel were six more men, each with a double barreled gun in addition to his armament. The KH crew were not to be taken prisoners, they were to be killed on the spot. A ten gauge at close quarters was the best weapon for such a task.

  ‘Time we got moving,’ Gogan told his men. ‘Get in there, gal-’

  Juanita led the way into the old tunnel. The walls were crumbling and the timbers rotten with age. At her back the seven men moved cautiously, watching they did not crash into those rotted timbers. Juanita was tempted to throw herself at the wall in a desperate attempt to bring them crashing down on the attackers behind her. Common sense warned her of the folly of such an action. She might not be able to fetch the tunnel down and the men could find their own way from here to KH. Her only chance was to lead the way and warn her friend, even if she died after doing it.

  Gogan lit a lantern and in the faint glow she could see better where she was going. The walls were even worse further in and they stopped once as dirt trickled down from a beam. A gunman gulped and whispered, ‘This’s too damned dangerous.’

  Moving on again the girl saw and felt the tunnel after going downwards, starting to rise again. In the light of the lantern she saw a square of wood and the end of the tunnel ahead. The wooden square was the trapdoor which led into a cupboard of the KH sitting-room. It had never been fastened in the old days and Jack Knight always kept the hinges well greased. She did not know if the same still held good.

  ‘There it is,’ a man hissed.

  ‘Sure. Ladies first!’ Gogan waved Juanita on, he’d been given certain orders about her. She was not to get away alive.

  Juanita reached up and pushed on the wood. It gave and she knew the trapdoor was not fastened. Slowly she forced it up, feeling a pair of boots or something sliding down. Now, faintly, she could hear the crack of rifles and knew at least one of the defenders was in the sitting-room. Behind her Gogan eared back the hammers of his shotgun ready. He could hear the shooting and knew Winter was doing his share by distracting the KH from any slight noise the attacking force might make.

  Gripping the edge of the trapdoor Juanita pulled herself up, swinging around to sit on the edge, then get to her feet. Gogan’s face lifted up over the edge. It was the time Juanita had waited for.

  ‘Pig!’ she hissed and kicked the man full in the face.

  Even as Gogan gave a startled yell and fell backwards the girl turned, she flung herself back at the cupboard door. The door opened and Juanita went into the room fast. She saw two men and Gloria by the side of the window, they turned with startled expressions, staring at the dirty vision.

  ‘Pronto Rojo!’ Juanita screamed, falling to her knees.

  Behind Juanita Gogan’s face appeared above the edge of the trapdoor. He was mouthing curses as he tried to bring the shotgun up to kill the girl who’d betrayed him. Doc Leroy took a hand. Like the others he’d been taken by surprise by the sudden appearance but he reacted faster. There was not time to bring round his rifle so he dropped it, throwing himself forward. The boneless looking right had made a flicker, the shiny ivory butted Colt in it and roaring even as he landed.

  Gogan’s head rocked back, falling out of sight. His cocked shotgun exploded as he landed, the charge tearing into the man behind him. This man’s own weapon roared and then with a low rumble the roof and walls of the tunnel collapsed.

  Doc Leroy was hurling himself forward, his Colt ready to fire on the next man from the trapdoor. He heard the rumbling and saw a cloud of dust roll up from the hole. Moving nearer he looked down, Gogan lay half buried under the earth but there was no tunnel any more, the concussion of the explosion having brought it down.

  Shutting the trapdoor down Doc turned to look at the two scared faced girls. It was Gloria who asked, ‘What happened?’

  ‘The shotguns brought the roof down,’ Doc answered. ‘Damn it to hell, why didn’t I think of the old tunnel?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Gloria’s voice was flinty. ‘I should have thought of it, too. How’d they hear about it?’

  ‘Carron heard your father talk of it,’ Juanita’s answer was stiff.

  ‘That figgers, although anyone who knows these old Spanish places would know about a tunnel. There’s one at your place. And don’t you worry about Don Jose, Neety. The Kid’s gone to rescue him, after Painthoss came to warn us.’

  The shooting from the woods was stopped as the men went to see what caused that rumbling from the tunnel. Juanita and Gloria stood facing each other and would have been in some considerable danger if the men were still shooting through the KH windows.

  ‘Painthoss?’ Juanita gasped. ‘But Lanton shot him.’

  ‘He made it here,’ Doc remarked. “Likely live, he’s a hard old cuss.’

  ‘He was not a willing member of the Syndicate. Lanton held something over his head. Something to do with his past,’ Juanita told her friend. ‘I forgot Lanton took your friend to town and—’

  ‘We know that too. Dusty and Mark went after her. They’ll bring her back safe enough.’

  The two girls hugged each other, their faces radiant and happy now. Brit watched them for a moment, then glanced from the window and remarked: ‘I hate to break up your tete-a-tete but we do happen to be fighting some rather aggre
ssive chappies out there. If you girls must play such dramatic scenes do them from a safer place.’

  Brit swung round and fired at the men who were moving back into place again, moving with such languid pace that it appeared he was bored with the whole thing. Juanita watched the young man as if she could hardly believe her eyes. ‘Who is that?’ she gasped.

  In a voice equally low Gloria replied, ‘The man I’m going to marry.’

  ‘Lot of coming and going out there, Doc, old chap,’ Brit remarked, as lead started coming at the house again. ‘Losing the tunnel’s stirred them up. I think they might even start to fight again.’

  Waco came into the room. He’d heard various vague sounds from under the house but did not connect them with anything. His eyes went to the Mexican girl, then to Doc, who grinned maliciously. ‘She just come through the bunkhouse. Said you was asleep and didn’t like to wake you.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Waco did not appear to be too worried. ‘What was all the noise I heard?’

  ‘Waco!’ Brit’s voice was urgent. ‘Those bally thugs are riding around in a circle out of rifle range. I think they may be trying to outflank us.’

  ‘Right!’ Waco turned, then halted at the door. ‘What’s a thug?’

  ‘Members of an old Indian murder cult.’

  ‘Ain’t one of them out there, only S Star,’ Waco whooped, then he was gone.

  ‘Miss Estradre, would you go to the bunkhouse and load for Waco. I think he’s going to be busy.’

  ‘He’s harmless, Neety, you’ll be safe,’ Gloria went on. Juanita left and Gloria joined Brit at the window. He leaned the rifle out and fired twice, drawing a scattering of shots back. Ducking down he sat on the floor beside the girl and handed her his rifle to reload. Taking up the second weapon he remarked: ‘You know old gal, I don’t know which sounds best. The Countess of Hawksden or just plain Mrs. Brit.’

  Gloria shoved bullets into the loading slot of the Winchester. She had almost finished when the meaning of the words hit her. Swinging round she gasped, ‘What did you say. Oh Brit. I’ve got to tell Neety.’

  She started to get to her feet but he caught her arm and dragged her down again. ‘Easy, old girl. There’s some shooting going on.’

  Waco lounged by the window of the bunkhouse room when Juanita came in. ‘Howdy ma’am, you got tired and headed home again?’

  ‘No, why?’

  ‘This’s the way you came in,’ he glanced out of the window. ‘Say, just look at these four there, sneaking up here after us.’

  Juanita joined the young man at the window, looking out to where four S Star men were darting forward on foot, making for whatever cover they could find towards the forge and the bunkhouse. ‘What about them? Like ole Brit says, have to dissuade them. They reckon they’re real smart ole Injuns. Watch that one.’

  Waco came up fast, his rifle cracking. A man sneaking towards the shelter of the forge gave a howl as a bullet cut a furrow under his feet. He took a flying dive which brought him to safety an instant after his friends landed.

  By now the S Star guns were surrounding the KH house, their rifles crashing out from wherever they could find a place to take cover. It was a long range fight, for those men held the accuracy of KH too highly to make any pitched attack. Bullets sobbed, and screamed off with a banshee wail of ricochets, but for all of that they did not manage to hit the KH crew, all keeping back out of sight and letting S Star waste lead.

  Up in Painthoss’s room Red Blaze grinned at the old-timer and fired down into the woods. ‘Looks like shaping up into a fair old fight. Bet you wish you was in it.’

  Painthoss gave a howl which sounded like the mating call of a razor-back hog. ‘You no-good, red-haired wart. Just you wait, I’ll—’

  ‘There’s a gent down there, can see him real plain, he’s got a Sharp’s buffalo gun and pouring lead out like he don’t have to pay for it.’

  ‘You couldn’t hit him from here with that rusted ole relic,’ Painthoss scoffed, eyeing Red’s old Spencer in disgust.

  ‘Naw?’ Red hefted the gun and eared back the big side hammer. ‘She ain’t a bad gun. All I have to do is line her up real careful, like so.’ He rested the gun on the window-sill. The gunmen were concentrating their fire on the downstairs now and the man with the buffalo gun was exposed to him. ‘Make allowance for the wind, for the drop in the bullet, like so. Press the trigger and—’

  A dull, dry click sounded to his ears and Red’s face flushed scarlet. He’d committed the classic blunder. He had not counted his shots. Looking at the highly delighted Painthoss, he shrugged, took up some more Spencer bullets and slid them into the butt magazine. Then he lined again and pulled the trigger. The Spencer was a short range weapon and even at two hundred yards was getting to an unreliable point. The bullet came close enough to the man to make him swing back out of his hiding place. From below in the sitting-room Brit’s rifle cracked and the man spun round, then dropped.

  ‘Get him?’ Painthoss asked.

  ‘Naw, the range’s too much.’

  ‘Got me a Spencer rifle.’

  ‘That’ll reach him,’ Red answered eagerly. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Over to home, but you’ll have to fetch her.’

  Red grinned at the old-timer. ‘Thanks, I’ll decline. Anyways, it’s what I’d expect of you, Injun-giver.’

  Downstairs Brit lowered his rifle after dropping the man Red flushed out for him. Then he saw a white rag waving on the end of a rifle. A man came walking from behind the corral.

  ‘KH!’ the man yelled. ‘You hear me?’

  ‘I hear you!’ Brit answered.

  ‘We’ve got a charge of dynamite in the tunnel. Reckon it’s under the house. You come on out or we’ll set her off.’

  Fifteen – Dusty’s Friends

  Rene Hamilton stood swaying, the world roaring before her eyes, hardly seeing Lanton, the banker, the sheriff, his deputy, Willet or the preacher. She felt the cold gold of the ring on her finger and a shudder ran through her. She was married to that fat, loathsome man. The door of the room opened. Lanton did not turn, for it would be one of the two deputies who’d been left outside to guard the house.

  ‘You’ll make a right becoming widow, Rene.’

  No sound in the world had ever been so sweet to Rene’s ears as those soft drawled words, spoken in the voice of Dusty Fog.

  The two young Texans stood just inside the room. From the open door an arm lay in view. It belonged to the deputy Dusty had dealt with. The other was not so fortunate. He’d tried to fight against Mark Counter’s powerful hands and now lay stiffening, with a broken neck.

  For an instant Lanton and the others stood still. Mark’s eyes on Snag Willet, a cold flat smile on his face. Lanton recovered first, his hand lashing up and across his body, under his coat to the butt of the Webley Bulldog gun. ‘Kill ’em,’ he screamed.

  Dusty and Mark separated, one going either way. With a hiss of triumph Dusty’s bone handled guns were out and roaring. The right hand gun sent bullet after bullet into Lanton’s fat body, the left throwing lead into the gunman with the deputy’s badge.

  An instant behind Dusty’s matched guns Mark was in action, cutting down Snag Willet while that killer’s hands were only clamping on his gun butts. The sheriff threw down on Mark, missing him by an hairsbreadth and then Lynch was going over backwards with a .45 bullet in his chest.

  Rene stood as if she was paralyzed but the preacher was wise in the ways of corpse and cartridge affairs like this. He caught the girl’s arm and dragged her to the floor, holding her down while overhead the thunder of guns shattered the room and powder smoke laid down swirling eddies. She saw a gun land by her side, then the sheriff’s body landed across her legs.

  The banker was trying to line his gun on Mark Counter when Dusty swung his left hand gun and fired. Ames screamed as lead tore through his shoulder. He reeled backwards and tripped, then stayed down screaming for the Texans not to kill him.

  Lanton reeled under the impac
t of the bullets, his huge frame taking the lead and absorbing the shock. His gun crashed back as fast as he could handle the trigger. Dusty’s hat tore from his head, and he felt as if a red hot iron was pressed against his thigh as a Webley bullet tore his Levis and gave a flesh wound. Only the rocking impact of the Colt’s bullets saved Dusty’s life. Lanton was shooting through the smoke and at the crouching, deadly figure from which spurts of flame tore and brought fresh agony to the huge, gross man.

  Reeling like a drunken man—Lanton saw Rene looking up at him, her eyes filled with loathing. Something snapped in his mind. This was the woman who’d brought him to an end. It was through her he was dying here. Ignoring Dusty —he tried to bring the gun down to line on Rene.

  The preacher caught up Lynch’s gun, holding it in both hands and pulling the hammer back and firing. The bullet went up under Lanton’s jaw, smashing up through the top of the man’s head. For a moment Lanton stood erect, then he crashed down on to the fainting girl.

  Dusty leaped forward, rolling the body from Rene, ignoring the pain in his leg. He knew the wound was not dangerous or he wouldn’t be standing on his leg.

  All was silent, the smoke blowing from the open door. Lanton and his men were done, only Ames remaining alive. ‘Don’t kill me,’ he screamed. ‘Don’t—’

  Mark dragged the man up. ‘Did Lanton touch her?’

  ‘No. Honestly. Don’t hurt me.’

  With a contemptuous shove Mark hurled the man aside. ‘If he’d touched Rene I’d have killed you.’

  Gently the preacher and Dusty lifted the girl up, it was some seconds before she opened her eyes. Then she threw her arms round Dusty’s neck, sobbing hysterically. Gently Dusty thrust her from him as he heard men running forward.

  ‘Dusty!’ It was Henery of the Eating House and the owner of the telegraph office who entered. ‘What happened?’

  Rene looked up. Mark came towards her as the preacher talked gently to her. ‘Were they married?’

  ‘Yes, but I think it can be declared void, due to the way it was brought about.’