Wacos Debt

by J. T. Edson

  ‘All right then, Doc. If you’re so sure I’ll make another bet with you. If she stays I’ll drag her out of town by the hair.’

  Smethers was turning to leave the bar but he came around with a grin on his face. ‘I’ll have another fifty on that. Let me know when you aim to try and Ill get ready to do some work.’

  ‘On her when I’ve finished with her?’

  ‘On you. If you try a thing like that with Mary Anne Catlan she’ll whip you so fast you’ll think the hawgs have jumped you.’ Saying this, Smethers raised his hat to the woman and walked from the saloon with a swagger in his stride.

  Della scowled after him. Somehow every time she tried to out-talk the old man she was left standing and wondering what went wrong. Then she felt a hand grip her arm and turned. Her boss, Carl Brarsand, stood by her side, annoyance plain on his face. He was a big man, tall, heavy and handsome. His clothes were cut to the latest Eastern style, but under his arm there was a bulge which spelled shoulder holster to eyes which could see the signs.

  ‘What’s going on here, Della?’ he asked.

  ‘Just a little bit of fun for the boys,’ Della answered, her voice whining and frightened. ‘Betting she sells out. You know we need some money towards running this place.’

  His fingers bit hard into the firm flesh of her arm. ‘You stupid cow. We don’t need money that bad. Look, we’ve built this place so we’re ready when the town booms open. We don’t want folks talking about us.’

  ‘All right,’ Della sounded scared and she had need to be for Brarsand was a vile-tempered man when crossed. ‘Did you see Doc Pilsener in Chicago?’

  ‘Yeah. He did it for us. I sent the letter off as soon as it was done. It should be here either today or tomorrow, then I’ll go and see O’Rea, and make him an offer.’

  ‘How about Doc, will he talk?’ Della watched the big man’s face.

  ‘No, he won’t talk.’ Brarsand instinctively patted the bulge under his left shoulder.

  Smethers stamped along the street towards the smaller and not so pretentious bar of the Hood City Saloon. He pushed open the batwing doors and entered the small, dark and cool bar-room. Only two men were in here at the moment. One was Jabe Spencer, the owner, a short, and cheerful man. The other was tall and lean, wore range clothes and belted a low-tied Leech and Rigdon percussion-fired revolver which had seen some use. He was Lafe Sanger, once town marshal, now reduced by the arrival of a younger man, to jailer.

  ‘A glass of your Old Scalp Raiser. Jabe!’ Doc bellowed as he came across the room. ‘I’ve just made us some money.’

  ‘Man can always use it, Doc,’ Spencer answered.

  ‘What’s up, Doc?’ Sanger went on.

  ‘1 was just in Brarsand’s place to collect a bill, him having been away for a few days. Della’s betting Mary Anne Catlan sells out. Then she bet that she’ll run Mary Anne out of town personal if she don’t sell and go.’

  Two startled faces looked at Doc, faces in which delight started to show. It was Sanger who spoke first, ‘I surely hopes you lay some on for us two.’

  ‘Thirty dollars each.’

  Thirty dollars was a lot of money to the two men, but they did not appear to be worried by it. They knew Mary Anne Catlan and were willing to take more than just that much on her in a matter of this kind.

  ‘Them bunch there allows they’re some slick,’ Spencer whooped. ‘They don’t know ole Mary Anne.’

  ‘Remember the bay Jack Wilmont bought?’ Sanger went on. ‘His Molly and Mary Anne tried to ride it. I reckon it piled them both five times, but every time one of them was throwed the other got on it. They licked that hoss between them.’

  ‘The only thing they couldn’t lick was each other and they sure tried often enough,’ Smethers remarked. ‘Now Molly’s in Chicago and letting ole Whit Dwyer run the ranch for her. I wish she’d come back now, what with Mary Anne coming home and Sunshine Sam getting killed out there on the Ranse.’

  ‘I wonder who killed Sam and his boys,’ Sangster spoke gently. ‘It wasn’t one of them nester families on the other side of the river. You handled the inquest, didn’t you, Doc?’

  ‘Sure.’ Doc appeared to be wanting to change the subject. ‘The gal needs help. There ain’t nobody she could turn to now except maybe you two and Colonel O’Dea. But the ranch crew needs them a leader and she can’t give them that.’

  Pulling his watch out Sanger glanced at it and grunted. ‘Stage’s just about due in, let’s go and see it.’

  ‘Sure, let’s show ole Mary Anne she ain’t alone.’

  The three men finished their drinks and walked out of the saloon, back along the street to where, facing Della’s Tavern, the Wells Fargo stageline office stood. A crowd was gathering to greet the westbound stage, the event of the clay. Sanger noticed that the saloon crowd were on the sidewalk in front of Della’s Tavern. Della with them. So was Brarsand, the old-timer noted and wondered where the handsome man had been for the last few days. He’d left soon after the death of Catlan, Sanger recalled and only returned this day or early yesterday. He lounged by the door of the saloon, around him seven or eight hard-looking, gunhung men who worked on the payroll of his saloon.

  Sanger’s thoughts on the owner of Della’s Tavern were distracted by the arrival of the stagecoach. It came hurtling along the street and halted in front of the office. The door opened, a flashily-dressed whisky drummer jumped out, turned and held out his hand to the young woman who came to the door. The watching men were amazed at the charge in her for they recognised Mary Anne Catlan.

  She’d gone away a tanned, happy-go-lucky tomboy and come back a lady. Mary Anne Catlan stood on the sidewalk, her cheeks were no longer tanned by the elements, but soft and delicate. She was a tall mature girl, as tall as Della Christine and with a figure, which, while not being so openly displayed, was just as rich and full. She wore a small, eastern-style hat on her elegantly cared for rusty red hair, her face was innocent of makeup and her black dress plain yet stylish. In her right had she held a vanity bag which she toyed with as she looked around at the familiar sights of her home. There was a twinkle in her eye as she saw the three men converging on her.

  ‘Good to see you, Mary Anne gal,’ Sanger said, moving forward and holding out his big hand to her. The coach was moving now, making its way around the side of the building to off-load mail and luggage.

  Mary Anne sighed. ‘The ride completely fatigued me. I cannot imagine how anyone could stand to travel further in such a bumpy vehicle. It really was too much for me.’

  The three men exchanged looks. This from a girl who’d ridden many miles on the back of a half-wild cowhorse. Sanger gulped, then went on. ‘We’ve got that old dun boss of your’n down at the saloon. Had him brought in from the spread for you, thought you’d want to ride him back.’

  ‘Goodness me!’ Marry Anne sounded horrified. ‘Ride a dangerous creature like that. I will hire a buckboard and a gentle team, then get a driver to take me home.’

  Brarsand and Della could hear every word being said and the blonde sniggered. ‘I could go over there right now and win both them bets.’

  ‘You stand here and keep your mouth shut,’ Brarsancl snapped back. ‘We’ll handle it the way I fixed it.’ With this he nodded to a man who lounged against the wall at the end of the saloon.

  The man lurched forward from the porch, moving like he’d taken on too much bravemaker and was set to have him some fun. He crossed the Street by the waterbutt which stood, full and. ready for use on the dirt Street, just in front of the Wells Fargo office. Swinging up on to the porch he halted and looked owlishly at Mary Anne, then grinned. ‘A redhead. I likes redheads. Going to have me a kiss.’

  Sanger was about to lunge forward and intervene as the man came at Mary Anne with his arms held out to enfold and hug her. Suddenly the sedate mildness left Mary Anne and her eyes flashed with the fire of sudden anger. She swung her arm, bringing the bag around to smash into the side of the man’s head. For a blow with a vani
ty bag it looked to pack unseemly power. The man staggered backwards and from the pain and the way his head spun he knew there was more than just ladylike trifles in that bag. His suspicions were proved when Mary Anne’s other hand shot into the bag and emerged with an item that should not have been in the possession of a milk-faced dude girl. He snarled out a curse, but his lunge forward came to an abrupt halt as Mary Anne gave an order.

  ‘Stop right where you are.’ Her voice was changed from the bored elegant tones to a hard, clipped-down Texas drawl that brooked no argument.

  The man stayed where he was. He always did as requested. The Merwin and Hulbert gun in Mary Anne’s grip was pointed right at him, pointed and held by a hand which was used to doing such things, the .45 bore of the short barrel was lined right at his stomach. Short barrelled or not it would make a hell of a mess of him if the girl was anything like a shot and she gave the impression she was.

  ‘Sorry lady,’ the man’s voice was sober now, sober and worried. ‘I was only funning—’

  ‘Drift and pronto!’

  The man gulped. From the way the girl talked now she knew the range country well. He turned on his heel and shambled away, followed by the laughter and jeers of the crowd. Mary Anne let him go, throwing back her head and roaring with unladylike laughter as she pushed the gun back into her bag again. She turned to Sanger who was shoving his old gun back into leather after drawing it ready to put a .36 ball where it would have done the most good.

  It was the old Mary Anne Catlan who looked at them; ‘Lordy me, your faces when I started talking to you,’ she finally gasped out. ‘I thought I’d play it that way and see how you acted.’

  ‘You surely had us fooled, gal,’ Spencer grinned back. ‘I thought you’d gone all eastern dude.’

  The smile faded for a moment. ‘Where did you bury pappy and the boys, Lafe?’

  ‘In that grove with the others,’ Sanger answered. ‘I—’

  ‘That’s all right. I’m over the worst of it now. Pappy wouldn’t want me to start sniffing.’

  Brarsand was crossing the street now with Della following on his heels, a disturbed look in her eyes. He came to a stop in front of Mary Anne, swept off his hat and said, ‘Welcome home, Miss Catlan, May I congratulate you on the way you handled that drunken cowhand.’ He shot a look at the three men. ‘I would like to see you alone.’

  ‘I’ve known Lafe, Jabe and Doc for more years than I can count. If they can’t hear what you’ve got to say to me, I don’t want to.’ Mary Anne took an instant and completely inexplicable dislike to the man. It was the western girl’s natural aversion to a fancy-dressed dude.

  ‘I would much rather speak to you alone.’

  ‘And I’d rather you didn’t.’ Mary Anne saw the saloon woman’s face redden. The crowd was dispersing now, seeing there was nothing more dramtic likely to be happening. ‘Tell it, mister. I want to be on the way to the S.S.C. in time to get there before dark.’

  ‘All right then.’ Brarsand held down his anger. ‘I would like to make you an offer for the S.S.C.’

  ‘It’s not for sale,’

  ‘I’ll make you a good offer for it, Miss Catlan. You know, a young woman cannot run a large ranch like the S.S.C.’

  Mary Anne shrugged. ‘I can make a try. I didn’t do too bad with that gunny of yours, did I?’

  ‘My gunny?’ Brarsand frowned, looking puzzled. ‘I’m not sure what you mean. He was just a drunken cowhand.’

  ‘He wasn’t drunk and he wasn’t a cowhand,’ Mary Anne contradicted. ‘I saw you wigwag to him just before he came across here.’

  ‘You saw too damned much!’ Della hissed. She was fast losing her temper, for she could see she was costing Brarsand money. The ranch girl was not going to give things up.

  Mary Anne looked the blonde up and down with a cold and contemptuous gaze, then, as if dismissing her as of no consequence, turned to the man again. ‘You must have thought I was green, pulling a play like that. What was he supposed to do, make me think the wild, wild West was too wild and woolly for me.’

  ‘Listen you—!’ Della hissed, seeing Smethers watching her with a grin on his face.

  ‘Ask your mother to keep out of this,’ Mary Anne remarked.

  Della snarled out a curse, pushing by Brarsand and lunging forward at the girl, hands reaching for her hair. Mary Anne’s eyes flickered with the light of battle. She moved and acted in a manner which caught Della by surprise. Mary Anne’s hands shot out and pulled with a strength that was out of all proportion to her size. Della shot forward and hit the hitching rail hard. She went right over the rail and fell head first into the water-butt. Della’s angry squeal sounded as she went over, then died away as her head went under the greenish and stagnant water.

  Mary Anne stood back with hands on hips and roared with laughter as she watched Della’s legs waving. The laughter was echoed by every man in the street and it was some seconds before three of Brarsand’s men came to pull her out. They had to help the winded, half-drowned, soaking and dishevelled woman across the street. Mary Anne watched them and then gave her attention to Brarsand again.

  ‘Still think I can’t run the S.S.C.?’

  ‘It could be awkward and lonely out there. I hear your crew aren’t too happy about working for a woman.’ Brarsand could see this girl was going to be more trouble than he first expected.

  ‘I’ll chance it.’

  ‘Why bother. With the money I’ll pay, you could go east and live the life a young lady should. There is no reason why you should tie yourself to a place like that ranch.’

  ‘Mister,’ Mary Anne’s voice was grim. ‘My pappy took the S.S.C. back in the old days. He fought Kiowas, Comanches and rustlers. He rode trail-drives, worked twelve or fifteen hours a day to build the S.S.C. up. He built it for the family and I’m not letting his work go for nothing.’

  ‘I approve of your determination.’ Brarsand made a change in his stand. ‘If I can send a man to help run your spread, I will do so. If I can help you in any other way, just let me know.’

  ‘Thanks. After I’ve looked the spread over I’ll maybe take you up on it.’

  Brarsand raised his hat again and was about to go when Smethers coughed and remarked. ‘I made a couple of bets with Della.’

  The big man turned back. His face working angrily, but he knew better than quarrel with a gambling debt. ‘All right, Doc. How much did you put on?’

  ‘One hundred. At five to one.’

  Brarsand scowled, but he took out his wallet and peeled off six one hundred dollar bills, passing them over. Then he turned and crossed the street, entering the saloon. Mary Anne watched him go then turned back to her three friends. ‘What was all that about, and who was he?’

  ‘Name’s Brarsand, owns the saloon there. Bought out the old Shannon Ranch in the back country early on, but he sold it again. What you going to do, gal?’ Sanger asked.

  ‘Head down to see Colonel O’Dea, then go to the ranch,’ Mary Anne replied. ‘Where’s that old dun of mine?’

  ‘Down at the O’Dea place. Took him there when we heard you’d be coming in today,’ Sanger explained.

  On the walk to the O’Dea house at the back of town Mary Anne tried to learn as much as she could about the death of her father. There was not much to tell. Sunshine Sam had been fishing on the bank of the Ranse River, after a big old bass. His sons, as usual, went along with him, and there they were, found shot in the back, all three of them.

  The county sheriff made a thorough investigation of the matter but could find nothing to help him in the search. Sunshine Sam was a man liked by all who knew him.

  The ranch crew were still working the spread, but they were uncertain as to their future and might not stay on now. Mary Anne knew full well the difficulties which were coming to her. She also knew a strong hand was needed to control them. She thought of the many friends her father made. One of them was a curly-haired, smiling young man called Sam Bass. He might come and help her, but he was being h
unted for some train robberies.

  It was then she remembered Waco. It was all of five years since he’d left home to see something of the world. She’d heard little enough of him in the time which followed, although Sunshine Sam passed the word for his adoped son to come home when he’d got the ranch going again. If Waco heard he’d never shown up, although word had it he was riding for Clay Allison’s C.A. outfit. The thought did not make her happy, for she knew something about the hardcase crew who rode for Allison. They were not the best sort of company a boy would get into. His men were noted for ability with cattle but more so for ability with a gun. One thing she did know, if Waco heard of her father’s death, he would return and give her all the help he could. She only hoped her little brother would return to help her now. The three old men here were her loyal friends and there were other people in town who would stand by her. They were not cowhands, however, or if they were once, were now too old and stove-up to be of use to her. With the ranch crew she would need a young man to lead them. She wondered how she could get in touch with Waco.

  CHAPTER THREE

  A VOICE FROM THE PAST

  MARY ANNE CATLAN rode towards the old ranch house with misgiving filling her. She’d found Colonel O’Dea, the lawyer in town, was along, at the County Seat attending to business and his two daughters along with him. So, leaving her luggage at the O’Dea house, she’d changed into a tartan shirt and old jeans, then with her stetson on her head and high-heeled, fancy stitched boots on her feet, she got her dun horse and headed for home. She thrilled to the rapid beat of hooves and the feeling of the horse moving under her. Yet for all of that she was worried. There was a lump in her throat as she rode towards the long, low white house. From the right, its lighted front showing people were in, was the bunk-house. She could hear the sounds which told her the ranch crew were having fun in the usual rowdy cowhand manner.

  Swinging from her horse she took it down to the corral and attended to it. Then with the dun looked after she returned to the house. A small, fat Chinese man looked out of the door, his eyes drawing even more narrow, then a grin split his face and her threw the door wide open. ‘Miss Mary Anne.’ There was pleasure and affection on his face which did not go with the meat cleaver he held in his hand. ‘I thought you would be back today.’