The Floating Outfit 11

by J. T. Edson

  ‘Your boys handle their guns?’ he asked.

  ‘Sure, not up to you or Mark’s class though.’

  ‘Reckon they’d do something for me, happen it meant missing most of the dance?’ Dusty went on.

  ‘Reckon they—’

  ‘Like I was saying,’ Dusty interrupted. ‘Cousin Red’s got money saved, could make the right gal a good wife—howdy Miss Considine, this here’s Terry Ortega.’

  Miss Considine nodded her head, then rode by, her brother at her side. They left the train behind, making good time across the range towards the town.

  ‘What’s all that about?’ Terry inquired, throwing a glance to where a grinning Duke rode by Louise, talking and pointing towards his boss. Terry could guess what Duke was telling Louise and wanted to get back in a hurry.

  ‘I need some boys to help me guard the train tonight. The folks from the train are out, they’ll want to be in on the dance and I don’t know anybody I’d rather trust than you and your boys.’

  ‘They’ll be on hand for you,’ Terry promised. ‘What do you reckon might happen?’

  ‘I couldn’t say. Not unless Jesse James comes out from Clay County, he robs trains they tell me.’

  Terry snorted. ‘I’m not sure I’d want my lil sister to marry into a family that tells tired jokes like that. Do you think Considine’s behind this, shutting me up like you did when you saw them coming towards us.’

  ‘I don’t think anything, except I want to make sure that only me and your boys know we’ll be out there. I’ve an idea that’ll get us away happen your spread’s got a hoss they allow can run.’

  Dusty knew this to be more than likely. Almost every ranch owned one horse on which the crew would be willing to bet money in a horse race. Quickly Dusty told the young rancher his idea and Terry swore his men not only could carry it out but would show the Texans how such matters were done in Arizona Territory.

  ‘Now I’m getting back to Louise afore young Duke busts up my ch—well, before he spoils—’

  ‘You’d better go, I hate to see a man trying to make up something he doesn’t need to make up.’

  Turning his horse Terry headed towards the main body. Duke saw his boss coming, raised his hat hurriedly to Louise, turned and bumped into Sue who gave him a sweet smile.

  ‘Now won’t Terry raise lumps on your pointed lil head when I tell him what you just told Louise,’ she said. ‘Save me doing it, pie-thief.’

  Duke set the spurs to his horse and lit out with all speed. Terry gave a wild yell and his crew saw Duke in full flight so left their duties to give chase. Dusty saw his chance, he gave a Texas cattle yell which sent Mark and the Kid in hot pursuit followed by Red.

  ‘Come on, Terry!’ Dusty yelled. ‘Lend a hand with him.’

  The chase took all the men out of sight of the train and in a hollow Duke heard hooves thunder behind him. He turned and saw the two huge stallions bearing down on him, saw the futility of trying to escape for his go-to-town horse, good as it was, could not outrun Red’s claybank and Mark’s blood-bay. He was grabbed by his arms, lifted from his saddle and carried between the two riders to be dropped into a thorny bush. Duke’s howls rose loud as he emerged from the bush to find the other riders waiting for him.

  ‘Do we chap him, Terry?’ grinned Tombstone.

  ‘Naw, toss him in a blanket,’ whooped Red.

  ‘Afore you start I’d like to tell you something,’ Terry replied. ‘Or rather, Dusty would.’

  Dusty spoke quietly. He saw the look of disappointment which came and then left the faces of the men. All saw the seriousness of the situation, they also saw a chance to have some fun and excitement so gave their willing agreement to Dusty’s plan. They might miss the dance but they sure would have something to tell the folks of the train happen Dusty called the play right and their guarding became necessary.

  The dance started just after nightfall, a scratch orchestra of anyone who could play an instrument and volunteered to help out supplied the music which, if not having the concerted flow of long rehearsal was loud and the audience did not show discrimination being on hand to enjoy themselves.

  Louise and Sue came with Red and Terry. Sue wore her best dress but felt a little piqued for Red retained his range clothes. During the first dance she saw the Lazy O crew and the Texans gathered in a corner. They were rowdy and gave every sign of hard drinking during the afternoon, for none could have reached their present stage of apparent inebriation since the dance started. She frowned as she watched. Like most cowhands her crew drank when in town. She knew they drank, knew also they did not become fighting drunk but hoped they would at least keep sober until the dance was well under way. That Dusty, Mark and the Kid seemed to be drunk too came as a surprise to her, for they’d been with the Raines family most of the afternoon and not in a saloon.

  ‘Put your money where your mouth is!’

  Tombstone’s bellow rang out over the sound of the music. Sue pulled away from Red, crossing the room with a hot flush of anger on her face. She saw Dusty haul some money from his pocket and in a drink slurred voice reply:

  ‘Here she is. Now let’s see your hoss run.’

  ‘What’s all this?’ Sue snapped, forcing her way between the men.

  Duke teetered on his heels and grinned. ‘We aims to show these lippy Texans a few lil things, Sue gal.’

  ‘But—but—’

  Sue’s angry splutter ended as the men went by her, making for the door. She could hardly believe her eyes as she watched Red and Terry go with the others. For a moment she stood with clenched fists, hearing the rapidly departing hooves and wild drunken cowhand yells, fading as the men rode from town. Then a sudden suspicion hit her, for Sue knew her ranch crew.

  ‘Something smells,’ she muttered to herself, a habit she gained from spending much time alone.

  ‘May I take you on the floor for the next dance set, Miss Ortega?’ Raines asked, following Dusty’s orders to keep everything going in a normal manner.

  Sue allowed herself to be led into a dance set but she could not shake the thought of something being wrong from her mind. ‘There’s something dead wrong—’ she began.

  ‘Let’s take the attention of the others from your brother and his crew’s indiscretion, shall we?’ Raines replied, sweeping the girl into the steps called from the bandstand.

  Considine and his sister were by the side of the room watching everything. They joined in none of the dances and after a few moments the man who attracted Dusty’s attention earlier entered the room, whispered to them and left. The big man rose to his feet, crossed the room to halt by Raines.

  ‘How about asking Amelia to sing, Colonel?’ he asked. ‘I’d love to hear her again but it wouldn’t look right for me to be pushing her on to the bandstand.’

  Raines nodded in agreement. The woman sang very well, she would make a pleasant entertainment for the people who appeared to be flagging from the earlier dances. So crossing the room Raines bowed to Miss Considine and after a few moments she agreed to sing.

  Sue stood away from the other women, a puzzled frown on her face which did not lift when she saw Biscuits Randle paying very obvious attention to the woman Louise introduced as Maisie Simons. She liked Maisie on the short meeting they had and thought of how Biscuits was noted as a very good cook. The law enforcement duties of Backsight did not take up so much of his time that he would be unable to lend Maisie any hand she needed. Then Sue shook the thought from her head. That Dusty Fog and his cousin Red Blaze were going to need to do some tall explaining the next time they met up with Miss Sue Ortega. That she was certain sure of’ The cowhands kept up their drunken whooping and yelling for some way out of town, although the party had lost a member before they went half a mile. The Kid came up on his stallion, a broad grin playing on his face.

  ‘He’s not following us now,’ he remarked.

  ‘Who was he?’ Dusty asked, having let the Kid stay back to see if they were followed by suspicious people.

>   ‘I never saw a riding style like his afore, although I’m near to sure I know him from some place,’ drawled the Kid. ‘Could have caught him and likely made talk but you said I should let him go back to town.’

  ‘You reckon there’ll be a try at the train?’ Terry asked.

  ‘It’s the last chance to stop the folks meeting their contract on time,’ Dusty replied. ‘It’ll be tonight or not at all.’

  ‘I’ll fix your wagon but good Cap’n Fog if they don’t come,’ Duke warned from the bunch of riders. ‘I’d just got me to know a sweet red-haired gal this afternoon and she don’t look the sort to take to me drinking and whooping it up with the likes of you.’

  ‘Happen they come early enough you’ll get to have a dance with her,’ Mark answered. ‘Happen that whiskery ole goat don’t get us lost on the way to the train.’

  Tombstone gave a gritty growl which might have meant anything. To avoid suspicion Dusty insisted they went towards the Lazy O even though this took them away from the train circle. Tombstone was promoted to guide with orders to get them to the train and his knowledge of the lay of the land stood him well now.

  Dropping from his saddle at the first sight of the train through the darkness the Kid went forward. He had gone only ten minutes when his horse started to move forward in answer to his whistle.

  ‘Dismount,’ Dusty barked. ‘Andy, take the hosses back there a good piece. Don’t come in until I yell for you.’

  ‘I’ll do that, Cap’n,’ growled the cowhand called Andy. The wagons lay in darkness and Dusty set his men out so they could cover the entire area. Dusty, the Kid and Terry knelt by the side of the wagon with their guns in their hand, even the Kid preferring his old Dragoon to the Winchester in a situation of this nature.

  Mark knelt by the side of a wagon with Duke at his side. To a young man of Duke’s exuberant temperament this waiting soon palled. He wriggled uncomfortably a couple of times then hissed:

  ‘I hope they comes soon. Say, that lil red haired gal, she stood about so high,’ he made signs in the dark. ‘And she surely looks—’

  ‘Get mum and watch what your doing,’ growled Mark. That gal can’t know what she’s letting herself in for.’

  ‘I’ll have you know I was much sought after in parts,’ Duke whispered back. ‘They used bloodhounds one time.’

  ‘Trust me to draw a pard like you.’

  ‘Don’t worry none. I’ll protect you.’

  The Kid touched Dusty’s arm and whispered, ‘They’re coming. Fair bunch of them. Moving nicer than I thought white men could.’

  Almost a minute ticked by before Dusty could hear anything. By that time he could also make out the dark shapes moving towards the wagons.

  ‘Hold it there!’

  Dusty’s challenge floated from the darkness and he moved to one side even as he spoke. The precaution paid off. From the dark bunch of men came a sudden scuffle which saw them separate. A shot crashed loud, the flame lanced towards the wagons and a bullet struck wood.

  Dusty threw a shot in echo, aiming at the gun-flash. Lead struck something but that something was not flesh. Instead a dull booming noise sounded, liquid splashed and there came a dull thud as something hit the ground. Dusty knew what he hit, knew it and felt anger.

  The Kid’s old Dragoon loomed out then he hissed, ‘They’re moving all round us. Likely allow there’s a couple of guards.’

  ‘Likely learn different,’ Dusty answered.

  Red and one of the middle-aged cowhands crouched side by side listening to the rapid crash of shots. Then Red grunted and lined his right hand Colt on a dark shape which crawled even closer. The gun barked and the shape lurched, then went limp.

  ‘That Cap’n Fog was sure on to their game,’ whispered the other man, firing and hearing a sound similar to that which attracted Dusty at the front, although the cowhand gave no thought to it.

  Mark and Duke found themselves engaged by two dark shapes who threw shots from the blackness. From all Mark saw he knew Duke would make a good fighting man when he learned prudence. A shot hissed over their heads, Mark fired at the flame and they heard a man scream, then a thrashing sound in the grass.

  ‘Yahoo!’ Duke whooped wildly. ‘You got him, Mark. Hear hi—’

  From the sound of the thrashing grass came a spurt of flame and the crash of a shot. Duke gave a gasp of pain and went down. The man in the grass must have taken his aim on the sound, then made his move.

  Mark was before the boy, crouching, cold anger on his face as he watched two dark shapes rise from the ground. Mark threw three shots, sending them in an arc which took both shapes. One screamed, spun around and fell, this time the grass thrashing was no trick. The second man flung himself to one side rolling for safety, sure that Duke had played them at their own game. Holstering his Colts Mark bent over Duke, feeling for the wound. It was in his chest but the boy still breathed and needed help as soon as it could be brought to him.

  Red fired two shots at the shapes which lay outside the circle. By his side the cowhand threw a bullet. Then Red heard a thud, a half cry and felt the cowhand kick his leg. He turned and not a moment too soon. A figure hurled from beside the still shape of the cowhand, something glinted dully and Red felt as if a burning brand ran down his arm. The Colt fell from his right hand but the unwounded left came up, slamming the barrel of his Colt against the jaw of the knife wielding shape even as it came at him. A heavy shape smashed into Red, that and the pain of his ripped open arm sending him flat on his back.

  ‘Kid!’ he roared and his left hand caught the knife-wrist once more but he knew he could not handle the strength of his attacker.

  The Ysabel Kid was already on his way. He’d heard the noise and Red’s yell brought him forward in a rush. The Dragoon went back into leather, this matter called for Mr. James Black’s brainchild. The man kneeling astride Red did not even know the Kid was on him and never did. The Kid’s left hand shot out, gripped hair, dragged back the head then the right brought around the knife. Sharper than many a barber’s razor the great blade ripped and sunk into the man’s bared throat until it touched bone. The scalp yell of a Comanche split the air and the Kid flung the twitching body to one side.

  ‘How bad is it, Red!’ growled the Kid but there was concern in his voice.

  ‘Hurts like hell,’ replied Red. ‘They got this boy without a chance. Show them how to do it, Lon!’

  The Kid’s reply was a Comanche deep snarl. His gunbelt slid from his waist, then his boots were kicked off and Red suddenly found himself alone with the two bodies. The Kid was gone like a shadow. That had been an Indian he killed and the Indian never drew breath who could teach a Comanche anything about fighting in the night.

  Through the blackness inched the Kid. He was not white now, the blood of Long Walker, the old man chief of the Dog Soldier lodge pounded in his veins. He was out to kill, to make those dark shapes wish they’d never set eyes on the Raines wagon train. In his hand the bowie knife weighed heavy and was sticky even to his hand. He took a second to wipe the blood from the hilt and his palm. This was not the time for the hilt to slip through being slick with blood.

  A man lay behind a bush firing at the train. The Kid inched forward, aiming at the gun flashes. His knife rose, fell, sinking into flesh, into the place where it would do most good. The man’s body arched, his gun fell from his hand but he never made a sound. The Kid turned to move when a thought struck him. He hand went to the body of his victim, feeling at the clothing.

  ‘Mexicans!’

  It was a thought not a word. This man was a Mexican for sure, likely the others hailed from south of the border too.

  Suddenly a man materialized at the Kid’s side. He would have taken most men by surprise but not the Kid at such a moment. His coming had been silent yet the Kid was aware of him and full ready to deal with him.

  ‘Pedro?’ hissed the man.

  ‘Si!’

  The man appeared to be fooled then another voice from one side called in
Spanish, ‘Who is that?’

  The man half turned at the words, then he spun back yelling ‘Pedro! One of the—agh!’

  It was full half a second too late. The Kid’s knife ripped home, laying the man’s belly open with the ease of a cavalry saber. He felt the hot rush of air from the man’s stomach and blood spurted out on to his shirt. The Kid went in fast, his hands catching the man and using him as a shield. Lead struck the body thrown by Pedro, but did not come through. The Kid hurled the body to one side, going the other way himself in a rolling dive which carried him to cover. He saw a man in front moving towards him and came up with his knife ripping home. The man screamed, the hideous scream of one in mortal agony and from the train came three bullets, one of which stirred the Kid’s hair in passing.

  ‘Dang goat,’ he thought as he went into cover and glided back toward the train once more. ‘I’m sure glad that wasn’t either Dusty or Mark shooting.’

  In the dance Sue and the others heard the first shots but ignored them for the cowhands often played such a trick. Sue laughed as Louise asked if they should investigate.

  ‘That’s just what the boys want us to do,’ she replied but the smile died an uneasy death. The shooting continued, lasting longer than any cowhand who had to buy his own powder and lead would take for a mere joke. ‘That’s from the wagons! Jim, Major Leyland, get some of the boys out there and pronto!’

  The men made a rush for the door and Sue caught Raines’ arm as he went after them. ‘What’s it all about, Colonel?’ she snapped.

  ‘That’s Captain Fog and your crew,’ Raines replied.

  ‘Now I’ve got it. None of them smelled of liquor,’ Sue ejaculated grimly.

  She darted to the bar and yelled for the loan of Last’s ten gauge. The bartender handed it over for he knew Sue could handle the shotgun. She left the room hot on the heels of the men.

  ‘They’re going!’ Dusty said to Terry Ortega. ‘Folks from the town are coming out with lights.’

  Red came over at that moment, holding his arm. ‘Caught a knife,’ he said in answer to Terry’s query. ‘The Kid’s gone out after them. I’m sorry, Terry, but they got Wade.’