The Floating Outfit 51

by J. T. Edson

  Faced with the problem of identifying the carrier, although suspecting he would prove easy to pick out, the brothers had arranged for Sutcliffe to supply the solution. He claimed to have done so, but they were finding it difficult to believe his identification could be correct. To their way of thinking, it was inconceivable that the man he had indicated was Dusty Fog. In fact, they felt it highly unlikely such a person would be entrusted with so important a task.

  ‘Damn it all!’ Rudolph said, with the air of one producing indisputable proof of his assertion. ‘He’s not even wearing a gun!’

  ‘Kansas City isn’t one of your wild and woolly towns along the railroad,’ Sutcliffe countered scathingly. ‘Nobody walks around here with a gun on his hip unless he’s a police officer in uniform!’ Then, because he had no desire to lose the bonus he had been promised for pointing out the man who was carrying the documents, he continued in a milder and conciliatory tone, ‘What if Fog, or one of those three you mentioned, couldn’t make it for some reason? He might have sent that runt, figuring nobody would expect him to give such a no-account little son of a bitch the chore.’

  ‘Well—yes,’ Rudolph admitted, almost grudgingly, running a far from complimentary gaze over the small Texan. ‘Fog might figure it that way.’

  ‘Anyway, it has to be him who has the documents!’ Sutcliffe declared. ‘Like I said, there hasn’t been another beef-head at the office in months and old Greenslade was saying this morning it’s the last day they could be collected and meet the deadline.’

  ‘All right!’ the elder brother said somberly, after a moment’s silence. ‘We’ll take your word for it!’

  ‘There’s one thing, though, Rudy,’ Aaron remarked, still looking disdainfully at the subject of the conversation. ‘If he does have them, it’ll be a damned sight easier and safer taking them from him than if we were up against Dusty Fog.’

  ‘Where’re you figuring on taking them?’ Sutcliffe asked worriedly, being disinclined to become involved in such a criminal activity.

  ‘On the train,’ Aaron replied.

  ‘Not until we get to Newton,’ Rudolph contradicted. ‘Why wait that long?’ the dishonest clerk wanted to know.

  ‘It’ll be nightfall before we get there and he’ll have to leave taking the documents to Uncle Cyrus’s office until morning,’ the elder brother explained. ‘If I know cowhands, he’ll make for one of the saloons and that’s when we’ll take him.’

  ‘It won’t be so suspicious that way,’ Aaron supplemented. ‘More than one of those beef-head bastards has been found beaten over the head and robbed in an alley.’

  ‘He’ll just be another, as far as anybody else will know,’ Rudolph went on. ‘Telegraph Stiggins and ask him to find out whether Fog’s bunch are still in town and to meet us at the depot with some old clothes. Then we’ll make that short-grown son of a bitch wish he hadn’t been made interfere in our affairs.’

  ‘Here they come!’ Honest Fred Defayne announced, watching the building into which the detectives had taken the Grimstons, as the last of the passengers ending their journey at Kansas City were leaving the west-bound train.

  ‘The bulls haven’t found it,’ Margo Defayne deduced, noticing the British couple were not handcuffed and the detectives were allowing them to walk away. ‘Which, knowing those two smart-assed bastards who searched ’em, they haven’t got it with them.’

  ‘It looks that w—!’ Defayne began. Bringing his words to a halt, he pointed like a bird dog scenting a covey of bobwhite quail. Then, having swung his gaze towards the train, he continued in an urgent tone, ‘Come on!’

  The behavior of the New Englander had been caused by noticing that Alfred Grimston was craning his neck and scanning the other people on the platform. Then, apparently having located the person he was seeking, he spoke to his wife and they strolled onwards. Having followed the direction in which the English criminal was looking, Defayne almost ignored the small Texan who was just boarding the day car. Suddenly remembering that Sarah Grimston had bumped into the young man as the detectives were approaching, another thought had come to him and it was this which provoked the order given to Margo.

  ‘What’s up?’ the red head demanded, joining her husband as he stepped forward.

  ‘The Duchess walked into that little feller like you do when you’re high-diving a mark,’ Defayne explained, employing a colloquialism for picking a pocket. ‘And I’ve heard she’s a pretty fair finger-smith.’

  ‘So what?’ Margo inquired, watching the small Texan disappear into the car. ‘Even if he looked worth high-diving, she wouldn’t have chanced doing it with the bulls moving in on them.’

  ‘Not to lift anything from him,’ the New Englander conceded. ‘But she might’ve planted the Zebra on him!’

  ‘It’d be taking a hell of a chance,’ the red head pointed out, glancing to where the English couple were boarding at the other end of the day car.

  ‘No more than being caught with it on ’em would,’ Defayne countered. ‘Anyways, even if she didn’t plant it on him, they’ll have fixed things so it’ll be sent to them and I aim to be on hand when it gets there.’

  On entering the day car, the New Englanders found it was not crowded and, to their satisfaction, the Texan had selected an otherwise unoccupied section of four seats. Having placed his hat and the portmanteau on the overhead baggage rack, he took the right hand window seat facing forward.

  ‘Which pocket do you reckon he’ll have it in?’ Margo inquired, sotto voce, as she and her husband were walking along the aisle.

  ‘I’d say the left,’ Defayne estimated, speaking no louder and also without appearing to move his lips.

  ‘And me,’ the red head seconded. ‘Even if he hadn’t been blocking her with his bag, he’d be less likely to reach into it for anything than on the right.’

  ‘Howdy, mister,’ the New Englander boomed, raising his voice and adopting a hearty, friendly tone. ‘Mind if me and the missus sit here?’

  ‘No, sir,’ replied the small Texan, to whom the question had been addressed, glancing around and starting to rise.

  ‘Hey now!’ Defayne exclaimed, raising his right hand in a prohibitive gesture. ‘You don’t have to leave on account of us!’

  ‘Land’s sakes, Fred!’ Margo put in, smiling at the object of their attentions. ‘The young man’s just being polite by standing up for a lady. Sit down again, mister. It’s pleasant to meet a gentleman who knows his manners.’

  ‘Gracias, ma’am,’ the young man answered, his drawl establishing without any doubt his place of origin, doing as he was requested.

  ‘Are you going far?’ the red head asked, as she and her husband took the seats facing the Texan, wanting to estimate how much time she had to carry out an exploration of his pockets and, if it was there as they suspected, relieve him of the Zebra.

  ‘Only to Newton by train, ma’am,’ the young man replied. ‘Then I’ll be headed down the trail to home with the rest of the boys who I br—trailed north with me.’

  ‘Hey!’ Margo said, seeming to exude genuine admiration and drawing a conclusion from the change made to the explanation. It concurred with the opinion she had already formed about its maker. ‘You must be one of those Texas cowboys we’ve heard so much about!’

  ‘Why sure, ma’am,’ the Texan confirmed. He sounded proud, yet a trifle defensive as if expecting his claim to be challenged. ‘You could say that. I’m Edward Marsden, from Polveroso City. It’s seat of Rio Hondo County ’n’ I ride for the OD Connected ranch.’

  ‘My!’ the red head uttered, sounding suitably impressed although she had never heard of the town, county, or ranch. ‘Isn’t that something, Fred?’

  ‘Excuse me for interrupting,’ requested a cool feminine voice with an upper class British accent, before the New Englander could reply. ‘But do I understand that you are employed by a ranch in Texas.’

  ‘Why sure, ma’am, the biggest and best in the whole Lone Star State,’ the Texan confirmed, rising
and looking at the speaker. ‘I’ve been riding for the OD Connected for—well, a fair spell.’

  ‘I say, Albert,’ Sarah Grimston exclaimed, glancing at her husband. ‘How jolly fortunate, what?’

  ‘It is at that, by jove, old girl!’ Grimson agreed and screwed into his left eye a monocle which experience had taught him helped to establish his false claim to be a member of the British aristocracy. i ‘Best luck I’ve had since old Bungo Charteris and I got an all black tiger in Ranchipur.’

  ‘No tiger hunting stories, dear!’ the blonde interrupted, with the air of one who had heard them all many times before. Then, diverting her attention to the couple from New England and giving no suggestion of recognizing them as fellow criminals, she went on, ‘Sir Albert and I are hoping to go into the ranching business in Texas ourselves, don’t you know. Would we be intruding too frightfully if we were to sit here and discuss the prospects with this young gentleman?’

  ‘Feel free, ma’am, or is it “Your Highness”?’ Edward Marsden authorized, without consulting the Defaynes.

  ‘Only “Your Ladyship”,’ Sarah corrected. ‘I doubt whether Her Majesty, Queen Victoria, would approve of us aspiring to one of Her titles.’

  ‘I reckon not,’ the Texan conceded, seeming most impressed to find himself in such exalted company even though he did not fully comprehend what he had been told. ‘Anyways, I reckon I can tell you-all a few things about ranching.’

  Nodding graciously, the blonde took the place next to the young man and Grimston occupied the vacant seat at the other side of the aisle. Still offering no indication of knowing the American couple were other than completely law abiding citizens, she introduced herself and her husband as ‘Lady Sarah and Brigadier General Sir Albert Fortescue-Howard’. Nor, in spite of deciding his theory was correct with regards to their connection with the small Texan, did Defayne display his appreciation of the true state affairs as he supplied the names, ‘Margo and Fred Gilbert’ for his wife and himself.

  Once the train set into motion and the conversation continued, it soon became apparent that Marsden’s knowledge of the ranching business could not be considered extensive. He did not appear to have any conception of what kind of property would be best suited to the needs of the English couple, much less how much one might cost. Nor, beyond claiming his employer was ‘doing right well out of the spread down to home’, was he able to say what financial benefits might accrue from the purchase. Questioned about how much per head cattle were currently bringing from the buyers in Newton, he was just as vague and knew only they were ‘fetching a whole heap more than folks in Texas used to get from “hide and tallow men” before bringing herds north to the railroad’. ii In fact, if any of his audience had been conversant with such matters, the answer he gave when responding to an enquiry about the number of losses sustained by his outfit during the journey from their ranch would have supplied a hint to his exact status on the trail drive.

  ‘They had some get away from ’em,’ the small Texan admitted, in the manner of one disclaiming responsibility for a mishap on the grounds that he personally was not involved. Then his voice took on a timbre of pride as he went on, ‘But I never lost a horse!’

  To anybody who was experienced in the handling of a trail herd, the boast suggested its maker had not been working directly with the cattle. Rather it implied he was employed in the menial—albeit important—capacity of wrangler, or possibly night hawk, looking after the horses in the remuda. To be able to claim that he had retained all the animals in his charge, rarely though it could truthfully be made due to the hazards of the long journey, was the ultimate accolade for such a person. iii

  While the others were talking, Defayne studied them with experienced eyes. Everything he saw made him more certain his theory regarding the present whereabouts of the Zebra was correct. As the Grimstons had no intention of entering the ranching business, there could be no other explanation for them using that pretence to make the Texan’s acquaintance. Their interest was also unlikely to stem from the real reason for his visit to Kansas City. There were certain to have been better qualified men available to collect the papers from ‘Lawyer Greenslade’ so obviously the documents were of no especial value. Apart from trying to decide how the Texan could be relieved of the item which the blonde had deposited on his person, the New Englander discounted him entirely as a factor in the business at hand.

  Having drawn his conclusions with regards to the small Texan, Defayne found the British couple far more interesting. He had frequently heard of them since their arrival in the United States, but their paths had never crossed and he would not have known who they were without having had them pointed out by a criminal associate the previous evening. As far as he could tell, the recognition was not mutual. While making it obvious that they were aware of the social difference between them, the Grimstons appeared to have accepted his explanation that Margo and he were entertainers traveling to Newton in search of employment. The appearance of the conductor saved him from the need to elaborate upon the story. Explaining to the conductor that they had all arrived at the depot in Kansas City too late to buy tickets, first the Englishman and then Defayne purchased them there and then.

  Keeping just as careful a watch while the conversation was continuing in an increasingly desultory fashion, Margo saw nothing to suggest that Sarah was retrieving the Zebra from its unsuspecting carrier. Then, shortly before the sun went down, Marsden excused himself. Rising, he went to one of the small lavatory cubicles at the front end of the car. Still neither of the British criminals said or did anything to imply they were harboring suspicions of the other couple. Instead, as Sarah and her husband continued with their pretence of being interested in the prospects of investing in the ranching business, she in particular kept a constant watch upon the door through which the small Texan had disappeared.

  ‘Excuse me, please!’ the blonde suddenly requested coming to her feet after something over three minutes had elapsed.

  ‘I have to go myself,’ Margo claimed, also rising, as Sarah passed her.

  On turning, the red head discovered that her guess that the small Texan had returned from the lavatory was correct!

  As Sarah converged with the young man, she stumbled and, once again, they collided with one another. Studying the technique being employed, with the eyes of an accomplished pickpocket, Margo had to admit the blonde was an equally competent ‘finger-smith’. She also discovered that her husband’s estimation of where the Zebra had been placed was incorrect.

  Sarah’s hand disappeared into the right and not the left side pocket of the loose fitting jacket worn by Marsden!

  It emerged empty!

  Yet, in spite of having suffered what must have proved a great shock, the blonde never faltered!

  Apart from a brief worried and puzzled glance over her shoulder, accompanied by a slight stiffening of her posture, Sarah continued to walk onwards as if nothing had happened!

  Concluding that the small Texan must have found the Zebra whilst in the lavatory and transferred it elsewhere upon his person, Margo sought to locate it, putting to use her considerable experience as a pickpocket. First, she subjected him to a scrutiny closer than her previous one. All she ascertained was that he was more sturdily built than he gave the impression of being. Then, having failed to detect any visual clue as to the location of the Zebra with her, of necessity, brief study, she elected to conduct a closer examination by physical contact.

  Being just as competent a ‘finger-smith’ as the Englishwoman, the red head contrived to give the impression that the motion of the car was responsible for ‘accidentally’ staggering against Marsden. Nevertheless, she did not attempt to put her hands into any of his pockets. Instead, regretting that time would not allow her to carry out a more thorough ‘bump frisk’ by pressing her body against his and testing for lumps not caused by nature, she felt swiftly over the outside of his jacket’s left and breast pockets. Knowing she was almost certainly being watched by
Grimston, she was unable to reach around and feel at those in the Levi’s.

  Moving with the speed of long practice, the questing fingers failed to achieve their objective. There was what must be a bulky wallet in the right breast pocket, but she realized this was not sufficiently thick to be holding the Zebra. Nor was it anywhere else she was able to reach. Being unable to extend her examination, as to retain the close proximity with the Texan might cause the Englishman—who almost certainly possessed the knowledge to detect what she was doing—to become suspicious, she passed him and followed Sarah along the car. She wondered what Marsden had thought when he discovered what he was carrying, but felt confident that she and her husband could relieve him of it provided they could create an opportunity to separate him from the Grimstons.

  Closing in upon the small Texan from the rear, Rudolph and Aaron Chufnell each caught him by a wrist and the back of his jacket collar. Having done so, they hustled him towards the entrance of the alley into which—also dressed after the fashion of a railroad construction worker—Wilfred Stiggins had already disappeared. Although much of the space between the two silent and unlit buildings was in deep shadow, there was sufficient light from the half moon for them to see that their companion was waiting in the center for them to deliver their captive.

  Fortune appeared to be favoring the brothers in their endeavors!

  On their arrival at Newton, Rudolph and Aaron had found Stiggins was waiting for them at the railroad detail. Not only had he brought, in a large carpetbag the simple disguises they had requested by telegraph, he had also claimed the trail drive crew from the OD Connected ranch left town that morning. However, because their intended victim had been accompanied they had been unable to get at him earlier.