by J. T. Edson
Listening to Perez declaiming there was no kind of trouble ‘his boys’ could not handle, Peraro wondered what to do for the best. As yet, no warning had arrived that the events he anticipated were forthcoming. Once the information was received and passed on, both sub-leaders and their respective cliques would have plenty to occupy their attention.
What was needed, the bandido chief told himself mentally, was some form of diversion to keep the two factions distracted until the news he was expecting reached him!
Even as Peraro was wondering what kind of distraction he could arrange, his thoughts on the subject were diverted!
A startled feminine shriek rang out from the second floor!
‘Patron! Patron,’’ the Indian maid yelled, dashing down the stairs. ‘Florencia’s attacking the gringo girl!’
‘You’d better go and stop her, Pepita!’ Sanchez said to the massive Yaqui Indian wife of the nominal owner, who always acted as pacifier if there was conflict between the women.
‘Bring them down here, Pepita!’ Peraro corrected, feeling that providence was playing into his hands by supplying the diversion he was seeking. ‘From what Juan Pablo and the others said, that gringo girl is pretty tough. So we’ll let them fight it out and see just how tough she is.’
‘I don’t care what Juan Pablo said!’ Perez declared eagerly. ‘My money’s going on Florencia.’
Despite the challenging look directed at him by Culebra, Sanchez made no reply. He was far from averse to watching the spectacle of two beautiful women fighting, but felt puzzled at being presented with the opportunity to do so. From all appearances, Peraro was condoning an attack upon a kidnap victim. Yet this went against the rules which he had laid down for how such a person must be treated and which he had always previously insisted were enforced.
Eleven – All They’ll Do Is Get Her Killed
‘Why howdy, you-all, Lon!’ Jock McKie greeted, thrusting the Colt Model of 1848 Dragoon revolver into his waist band and starting to walk around the counter, after the unwelcome visitor had disappeared along the sidewalk. ‘I never thought I’d live to see the day I’d admit it, but right now I’m as pleased’s a hound dog with two tails and his own forest to see you.’
‘I always affect folks that way,’ replied the Ysabel Kid, despite having a good idea what was the main reason for the pleasure. ‘But shucks, Jock, I know you’re getting on long in years and aren’t nowheres near so spry as back when. Only I never figured you’ve got so all-fired ancient and “dee-crepit” you couldn’t head out and nail a Canada honker for yourself.’ Strolling forward while speaking, he picked up the bird and, looking around him with what appeared to be disdain, continued, ‘Though I must admit truthful, you look a whole heap older and more ornery than last time I saw you. But this place hasn’t changed a smidgen. I do declare you’ve still got all the same dust over everything.’
‘If the sins of fool Sassenach fathers aren’t visited upon their even worse sons, there’s surely no justice in heaven because they god-damned well should be!’ the elderly leatherworker claimed. Then he went on in a tone which a stranger would not have realized was more serious, although his latest visitor knew this to be the case. ‘You couldn’t’ve come at a better time, boy. Philo Handle’s fixing to shake up some real bad trouble.’
‘Philo Handle?’ the young Texan inquired.
‘You wouldn’t know him,’ McKie answered. ‘He bought up old Pan Briggs’s place. Pan sat in on a poker game down to the River Queen one night and, being liquored more than somewhat, figured the two aces he’d been dealt would look a whole heap healthier should he add them to the pair he’d got tucked into the leg of his boot.’
‘I’ve heard tell of other fellers’s got took with the same notion,’ the Kid admitted, noticing the voice of the elderly leatherworker had reverted to its normal Texas drawl now the unpleasant interview with Ira Jacobs was over. ‘Thing being, ’most all of them come to regret it.’
‘Which same happened to Pan,’ McKie confessed. ‘Although, to be fair to him, I’ve got to admit he was tolerable unlucky. Another gent in the game held him a pat-dealt ace high straight and, after the shooting was over, the sheriff sold off Pan’s spread for back taxes. Mr. Philo Handle from back East put in the top bid and took it over. Got him some right smart notions, for a dude. Allows to clear off all those half wild longhorns’s are eating out his grazing land and bring in some of them fancy white-faced Herefords in their place.’
‘It’ll come all through Texas, ’cording to Dusty,’ the Kid stated, his attitude indicating he considered the opinion of the man he named set the seal of approval on the replacement of longhorns by Herefords. ‘Fact being, he’s already giving it a whirl back home on the OD Connected.’
‘Like I said, Mr. Handle’s a right smart feller,’ the elderly Scot replied. ‘In some things!’
‘But not in others?’ queried the Kid, concluding from the continued employment of the honorific, “Mr.”, that McKie did not approve of the newcomer.
‘Like you say, Cabrito, but not in others.’
‘Such as?’
‘Well now, as a f’r instance,’ McKie explained. ‘Seems like his niece, or whatever kin she be, was kidnapped by his friend and his, if nobody else’s, good ole Don Ramon Manuel Jose Peraro.’
‘Except he’s never done it over this side of the Rio Grande,’ the Kid drawled. ‘That’s always been “his friend and his”, good ole Don Ramon Manuel Jose Peraro’s way of picking up the odd peso or so.’
‘I’m not gainsaying it,’ the elderly leatherworker declared, studying his visitor with suspicion. ‘Only why do I get this strange feeling’s how you know about it happening, Cabrito?’
‘Well now,’ the Indian dark young Texan answered. ‘That could just be because I do know it’s happened.’
‘There’s some’s might ask how come you got to know about it.’
‘There’s some’s’d get told it’s because I saw Cantrell, Juan Pablo and four more of them taking her to Escopeta. Only there was no way I could see to cut in and pry her loose quick enough to stop her getting killed in the fussing.’
‘Those boys aren’t yearling stock fresh set foot on the range,’ McKie stated. ‘And I’d tell the world you done right not to give it a whirl.’
‘Gracias,’ the Kid drawled. ‘How’d they come to grab her?’
‘Young Miss Mavis Dearington, her being the niece or whatever she might be, is a real nice young lady, considering she hails from Providence, Rhode Island,’ McKie replied. ‘Which it wouldn’t be right ’n’ proper to hold that against her. No more than it would be to hold it against me ’cause some of the folks I have coming in here start throwing god-damned Canada honkers at my good cash paying customers—!’
‘Here!’ the Kid commanded, holding out the dead bird with an expression of well simulated loathing. ‘Take the god-damned thing, seeing’s I got into this whole blasted game on account of hunting it for you.’
‘For me?’ McKie asked, looking and sounding as if the possibility had never occurred to him. Accepting the gift, he continued, ‘Anyways, seem’s how Miss Mavis’s been going along the river a ways ’most every morning since she come here, to swim and take some fancy exercises’s’ll help her do that fancy ballet dancing’s city folks take such a shine to.’
‘She go alone.’
‘Nope. She’s got this real big colored gal goes along. Right feisty lady, on all accounts. Totes a sawed-off scattergun with her and, ’cording to what I heard, she sprayed some of the Forked Stick cowhands with rock salt second day out for sneaking around, trying to watch Miss Mavis at it.’
‘There’s some’s’d say it’s a right pity she didn’t have it along today,’ the Kid remarked. ‘Or, happen she did, I’d allow she wasn’t give’ a chance to use it. None of those yahoos with the lady showed signs of being hit, even by rock salt.’
‘She’d got it along,’ the elderly leatherworker corrected grimly, placing the Canada goose on top of the
counter. ‘Trouble being, what I heard, this time the god-damned thing didn’t cut loose with nothing from either barrel when she tried to throw down on them with it.’
‘Why not?’
‘She doesn’t know, but reckoned she was told it was all loaded up and set to go when it was given to her this morning. And she didn’t have it with her for Doc Dalrymple and me to see could we find out why it hadn’t gone off.’
‘You and Doc?’ queried the Kid. ‘Where-at’s Abe Minsey?’
‘Got word yesterday the sheriff wanted to see him urgent’ over to the county seat,’ the Scot explained, the man in question being the local deputy sheriff who also served as town marshal. ‘So he’s not around, more’s the god-damned pity.’
‘Cantrell and his amigos sent the big colored gal in with the word, huh?’ the Kid guessed, knowing something of how the kidnappings carried out by Peraro’s gang were organized.
‘They sent her in, the lousy sons-of-bitches!’ McKie confirmed, with a wrath and vehemence which surprised his young visitor who knew his normally phlegmatic nature. ‘Which, the way they’d worked her over, she’s got more guts than you can hang on the big corral fence to have made it here and tell what happened. Seems they loaded her in the Surrey and set her to heading here, but something spooked the hoss and she was tossed out. Doc says, way she was stove up afore that, he doesn’t know how the hell she got to town as quick as she did, or at all, comes to that.’
‘What’s happening now?’ the Kid wanted to know.
‘We sent word to the spread and Mr. Handle’s come in,’ McKie obliged, his normally impassive face dour and foreboding.
‘You mean you had to send for him? the young Texan growled, being aware of the proclivity of Western trained horses to return to what they regarded as being home if finding themselves at liberty to do so.
‘We had to send for him,’ the Scot replied, knowing what had provoked the question. ‘He said the Surrey hadn’t got back to the spread. Only’s Miss Mavis’d said she’d be staying in town all day, he hadn’t thought nothing about it. Then he went to the place they have here in town to see about getting the ransom money together, or so Doc and me thought.’
‘Only he hadn’t?’ the Kid stated more than asked, not caring for the conclusions he was beginning to draw.
‘He for certain sure hadn’t,’ McKie agreed. ‘Going by what Jacobs was saying just afore you dropped by, he’s down to the River Queen now and he’s figuring on raising enough men there to go pry her loose.’
‘Hell’s fires!’ the Kid ejaculated, his voice barely more than a whisper and his savage red hazel eyes boring into those of the elderly leatherworker. ‘You can’t mean’s how he’s figuring on going down to Escopeta with a bunch of hombres and try to haul her out at gun point?’
‘That’s what he’s figuring on!’ the Scot answered.
‘The god-damned fool!’ the young Texan spat out. ‘All they’ll do is get her killed. Doesn’t he know the way Peraro handles kidnappings?’
‘He can’t know!’ McKie claimed. ‘Or, happen he has heard, he’s for certain sure not taking it to heart. Only me, I can’t see him not knowing. He’s only a dude not long in Texas his-self and I don’t reckon Jacobs’s ever been south of Kansas afore arriving with him, but he’s got some jaspers riding for him who ought to be able to tell him what’ll happen to Miss Mavis should they go after her.’
‘Then why’s he so all-fired set on going?’ the Kid wanted to know.
‘Jacobs didn’t say,’ McKie answered. ‘Only, from what I’ve seen of him, Handle’s the kind who just won’t listen to anything the hired help tells him.’
‘Which it’s right lucky I’m not hired by him!’ the Kid asserted savagely. ‘Because he’s sure’s shit going to listen to me.’
Watched by the highly amused occupants of the bar-room at Bernardo’s Cantina, the enormous Yaqui Indian wife of the nominal owner was half carrying, half dragging Mavis Dearington and Florencia Cazador down the stairs from the second floor.
As was the case with Hettie Bonaparte, Pepita possessed a remarkable turn of speed for one who was built on far from sylph-like lines. What was more, in addition to being fast on her feet, she had strength which would have put many a man to shame and was experienced in quelling physical conflict between other women.
Arriving at the bedroom, the big woman had found the girls engaged in a hair tearing struggle on their feet. Going over and grabbing each by the scruff of the neck, she had jerked them apart. However, being mindful of the instructions she had received from Don Ramon Manuel Jose Peraro, she had modified her usual technique for coping with such a situation. Instead of banging their heads together to stun them both, 27 she had held them at arms’ length and, ignoring their furious attempts to escape her grips, hauled them bodily along the corridor to the top of the stairs. Although neither was a weakling and each was struggling wildly, they were unable to escape from her grasp.
Reaching the ground floor with her double burden, Pepita gave a shove which sent Mavis staggering into the center of the bar-room. It was unlikely that any friends of the red head would have recognized her at that moment. All her veneer of well bred culture and civilization was gone, leaving a furiously primeval being. The silk band had gone from, her hair, which was no longer neat and tidy. Torn away from the left side, her blouse flapped half on and half off. Not that she was giving any thought to her appearance. The way in which she had been handled by the big woman had done nothing to bring her to her senses. At that moment, in fact, she was not even aware of where she was or of the audience around her.
Even if the red head had wished to avoid continuing the fight, she would not have been presented with an opportunity. Before she had fully come to a halt, much less found out she was being watched by lascivious eyes, Florencia was propelled towards her. Already strained by the luscious body inside it, the flimsy blouse worn by the Mexican beauty had been even less able than that of Mavis to withstand the stresses and strains inflicted upon it. While it still clung to her, it was torn so badly most of her torso was exposed. If she knew of this, she paid it not the slightest attention. She was, in fact, solely concerned with resuming her attack upon the hated gringo who had caused her considerable pain prior to their brief, forcible separation.
Seeing the disheveled Florencia rushing at her, face distorted by rage and hands extended like the talons of an eagle reaching for its prey, the red head plunged heedlessly into the fray. Rushing towards one another, like two trains on a collision course while using a single railroad track, they met. There was no attempt at strategy or deliberately thought out attack. Instead, locked to each other by clutching hands, they spun around with bodies twisting and turning in what seemed to be a primitive dance ritual inspired by violence and hatred. It was clear to the excited spectators that each wanted to tear the other to pieces and that they were being guided by primeval instincts in their attempts. Knees and hands jabbed or grasped at flesh. Grunts, squeals, gasps and cries which were not words punctuated their efforts. For all that, despite being locked in such savagely basic conflict, one feminine tactic was denied them. Although clawing mindlessly along with their other forms of attack, neither had nails of sufficient length to inflict damage.
Pushing Mavis backwards on to a table, causing its occupants to leave their chairs hurriedly and sending the cards and money belonging to them flying, Florencia crawled after and tried to treat her as had happened earlier. On this occasion, the red head was not caught unawares. Nor was she being thrust into something which inhibited her movements. Shooting upwards, her hands eagerly closed upon the target which had been selected by the Mexican when she was straddled and helpless. Feeling herself assailed in a most painful manner, she made the mistake of trying to pull away. Immediately, aided by having a firm base beneath her and employing the full strength of her wiry body, the red head toppled Florencia from her. Although she attained the upper position for a moment, she was unable to keep it.
Rolli
ng across the top of the table, still locked in a tight embrace, the weight of the girls caused its legs to collapse. As it tilted over, they slid to the floor without losing their holds. What followed their landing looked much like the convulsions of two snakes put into a pit to fight with each other. 28 Entwined by arms and legs which respectively seemed to have minds and volition of their own, the pair heaved and writhed their way across the floor. Biting, tearing, punching and gouging as they went, they gave the impression of feeding upon the fury of one another to sustain themselves against the punishment being inflicted upon them.
Both blouses soon disintegrated completely under the impulsion of clutching and tugging hands. Each girl also lost her skirt, without its removal having been deliberately sought after. Regardless of this leaving her stark naked, Florencia battled on just as vigorously. In the respect of attire, Mavis was somewhat better off. Although the bodice of her black leotard was ripped asunder and its legs had lost their knees, what was left still clung to her hips and thighs to offer some slight form of privacy from the masculine eyes which were feeding on the sight.
How it happened, not even the spectators could say, but the embattled pair made their feet and stumbled apart. Not so that either could take flight, however. Instead, they immediately reeled inwards filled by a mutual desire to continue the murderous fray which had left bruises, welts and teeth marks on each sweat-soaked body. Oblivious of the perspiration which diluted the blood each was shedding from her nostrils, they had only one thought between them. To fight until victorious, no matter how great the cost in suffering.
Spinning her magnificent body in a sweeping motion, Florencia sent her right foot into Mavis’s belly. Although the kick had been delivered a fraction too early and was almost out of range, it arrived with sufficient force to make the red head double over. Croaking what could have been an exclamation of delight, the Mexican staggered closer and drove up her left knee. Missing its intended target, it impacted against Mavis’s shoulder instead of the temple. Nevertheless, her slender body was sent reeling out of control. Stumbling and groggy, she instinctively remained in the crouch and with her arms covering her face. Again Florencia kicked, but with far less vigor than she would have been capable earlier. For all that, the result was not to be despised. Passing between the other girl’s spread apart elbows, the foot made its contact with her already throbbing bosom. Giving a cry of agony, she stumbled back a couple of steps and crumpled to her knees.
