Wacos Debt

by J. T. Edson

  ‘Sure.’ Molly took a rope from the corral side. She went over to the corral and deftly built a loop, sending it snaking out over the head of a horse. ‘Now isn’t that strange, I caught a horse.’

  Mary Anne was also building up a noose and caught her dun. They worked fast, throwing saddles on the horses. ‘I bet Susan Mae’s scared to death. We’re her friends and should go and comfort her.’

  ‘Why sure,’ Molly agreed. ‘One must stick to one’s friends, mustn’t one.’

  With this kind thought in mind the girls rode for town, keeping well behind the men, and on reaching it sneaked around the back of the O’Dea place where a handful of pebbles thrown at the window woke Susan Mae O’Dea up. She came down, opened the door and allowed her friends to enter; they went to her room without waking the rest of the house. Then Molly and Mary Anne told why they were here. Susan Mae offered to let them stay here in her room from where they should have a fair view of the fight.

  Unsuspecting that the girls were in town, Waco put his men out around the saloon, moving them in under the cover of darkness and the waiting with the patience of an Indian for the morning. The sun came up, the shadows of the night faded back and in the cold grey light of the dawn Waco called, ‘Brarsand! Brarsand. We got your men.’

  ‘So?’ Brarsand called back.

  ‘Are you coming out or do we have to come in and get you?’

  ‘Come and get me!’ Brarsand was scanning the street. He could not locate any of the attackers.

  Red Blaze, Spencer carbine in hand, darted forward to the side of a house and dropped behind the porch along with the two cowhands who were already there. Larry Beaumont grinned at Song. ‘They sent us a loader, Song. Hope he don’t get in the way.’

  Song eased himself up to reply. The side window of the tavern broke and a rifle roared. Song slid down again, a hole through his shoulder. Red’s carbine lifted and roared back, then from every side, every window of the tavern, came the thunder of shots. Larry pulled Song to one side and was about to say something when Song yelled, ‘Up there!’

  Turning, Larry saw a man with a rifle at one of the upper windows of the saloon. The young cowhand whirled fully around with his rifle raising and crashing as fast as he could work the lever. On the fifth shot he saw the man stagger backwards holding his face. ‘Got him!’ he whooped.

  ‘Throw enough lead at them and some of it’s bound to,’ Red scoffed, levering another bullet into the chamber of his Spencer, then drawing the side hammer back. He sighted carefully on the lower window and promised he’d make anyone using it sorry. Then he remembered something. ‘Watch the upstairs windows, Larry. How’s Song?’

  ‘Needs some help. Where’s Doc?’

  ‘Him and Waco are up there, between the Wells Fargo office and the store.’ Red swung around as he heard someone coming. It was the Reagan brothers, each carrying a Springfield carbine. ‘Howdy gents!’ Red ducked as a bullet from the lower window narrowly missed his head. ‘One of you help Song there?’

  ‘Sure boy,’ Seamus Reagan agreed.

  ‘Good!’ Red came up fast, his old Spencer roared just as the man at the window appeared for another try.

  ‘Bet you missed,’ Song muttered. The pain of his shoulder was intense but he held down any sign of it.

  ‘I ain’t you,’ Red scoffed. ‘His rifle’s out there and—’

  The rest of the words were cut off by the spat of a bullet near his head and the deep boom of Reagan’s Springfield. A hole was in the wood of the porch about three inches in front of Red. He looked down at it then asked. ‘What did that?’

  ‘Mice,’ Larry answered.

  Waco and Doc were in a safe location, by the side of the Wells Fargo office. They knelt there with their rifles and watched Red further along. The saloon was surrounded now and from all sides came the flat crack of rifles and the deeper roar of Colts. The barking of the cowhand Winchester was backed by the deeper roar as Colonel O’Dea cut loose with his double-barrelled Colt rifle, and the heavy boom as Sanger brought his Sharps Old Reliable into the game. Word passed around the town in the night, alerted every citizen and they were all here, fighting along with the cowhands and the nesters against this man who’d tried to take over their town. From the saloon windows rifles, revolvers and shotguns answered the fire of the cowhands. Lead slashed the street and tore through the air, whining ricochets went off and occasionally men were hit.

  ‘Reckon we can get them out, boy?’ Doc asked.

  ‘Sure, might take us some time. Depends how they are for food and water.’ Waco lined his new rifle at a man who was showing too much of himself. The rifle crashed and the man spun around, out of sight. ‘We can’t rush them, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s for sure. Could try their own game on them if we can find a hay-wagon.’

  ‘We’re not that kind,’ Waco answered. ‘Besides, there is no way we could get one up there. Those guns won’t stand by and fight if things go wrong. They’ll want out of it.’

  In the saloon Brarsand was thinking the same thing. His men were hired guns and they would not stand by him if things were going really bad. He turned to where Della and her girls were hidden behind the bar.

  ‘Della, get those girls out of here. The Texans’ll let them go through. You go with them, I’ve got something for you to do.’

  ‘What?’ Della was relieved to be getting out of the saloon for bullets were flying freely inside.

  ‘You’ll all go right across to the Wells Fargo office. Take some money with you and slip out the back. Go to the post office, you’ll have to go round the back, by the livery barn, and send a message to the sheriff in Hood City. Tell him to come here.’

  ‘What good will that do?’ Della ducked as a bullet came through the window and smashed the bar mirror.

  ‘It’ll take him two hours at most to get here with a posse. I’ll give myself up to him. There’s nothing they can prove on me, nothing that a good lawyer can’t break for me. I’ll let him take me in.’

  ‘Will that help?’

  ‘Sure. That Texas boy, Waco, he’d kill me out of hand, but not if the sheriff’s here. That way I’ll get a trial, I wouldn’t if they got in here.’

  Della picked up her bag and opened it. She went behind the bar to take money from out of the cash drawer, then picked up the Remington Double Derringer and placed it on top. She turned and called the girls to her, then nodded to Brarsand.

  Waco saw the handkerchief waving at the end of a rifle barrel and poked through the window. He yelled for the other men to stop shooting and as the noise died down went on:

  ‘Giving up, Brarsand?’

  ‘No, sending the girls out. I wouldn’t want them killed by your bullets.’

  ‘Good enough, send ahead!’ Waco gave his consent for he did not want any of the women hurt.

  The batwing doors opened and the saloon girls came out, one after the other. Waco watched them, suspicious of Brarsand’s feelings for the welfare of the girls. They crossed the road and entered the stage office, Della last, closing the door behind her.

  ‘How about you, Brarsand?’ Waco called. ‘You giving up?’ From the window where the flag of truce came a rifle barked in reply and once more the gunfire shattered the silence of Whittle’s streets.

  Della Christine ignored the other girls as they clustered at the windows of the office, looking out. She crossed the room and went around the counter, opening the back door and stepping out. All the Wells Fargo people were in the fight and no one challenged her as she walked along behind the houses. She did not know if Brarsand’s idea would work but she did know one thing. It was time she changed her affections again. When she’d sent off this message she meant to go back to the office and when the stage came in get on it.

  She was walking between the livery barn and the corrals now and would cut between the houses, then to the post office. There she would either bribe or threaten the owner into sending the telegraph message to the sheriff. It was then she was awar
e that someone was running after her and swung around. Sudden hate welled up inside her. It was that damned Catlan girl.

  Mary Anne Catlan and the other girls, Molly and the two O’Dea’s were watching the fight from a safe place. The girls wanted to do something to help but none of them had any idea what. They might be able to fetch ammunition if any was needed but that was about all. It was then that Mary Anne saw Della leaving the Wells Fargo office by the back door. Turning without a word to her friends Mary Anne set after the blonde woman for she knew that Della was up to no good. Mary Anne ran along the back Street and at the livery barn saw Della turn. There was no time to say anything now. The blonde was opening her bag and Mary Anne knew it was not to look for face powder.

  Diving forward Mary Anne locked her arms round Della’s Waist and staggered her backwards. Della lost her hold of the Derringer and the bag. Her hands drove down, digging into Mary Anne’s hair, pulling hard at it. Mary Anne gave a howl, let loose of Della’s wrist and was pulled erect. Then Della let loose of the hair and swung a punch which smashed into the girl’s cheek. It was a hard punch, harder than Mary Anne had ever felt. She crashed into the corral fence and saw Della, face contorted with hate, hurling at her.

  They met like two enraged wildcats, tearing at hair, kicking, swing wild punches, oblivious of everything but their hate for each other. Della fought with the savage skill gained in many a bar-room brawl and Mary Anne fought back with the strength of a wild tomboy. They tripped and went rolling on the floor. Neither could gain the upper hand for long enough to make use of it. Della’s dress, not meant to stand up to this kind of treatment, split at the seams and was torn off as they thrashed over and over but she gave it no thought. Mary Anne was luckier; she was still wearing her shirtwaist and jeans. and high-heeled riding boots on her feet.

  Rolling apart, gasping for breath, they came to their feet. Mary Anne’s shirtwaist was torn open, blood trickled from her nose and her left eye was swelling but she flung herself at Della without any hesitation. They tangled again in a wild, kicking mêlée and reeled back. Mary Anne yelled as she was pushed into the water-trough, her head forced under the water. Della leaned on the girl, holding her head down, feeling her struggles.

  Mary Anne fought for breath. She brought her legs up around Della’s waist and crossed her ankles, then tightened. The girl’s legs were powerful, toughened by hours of riding, even in her eastern school. Della gasped as the crushing clamped on her. She fought to hold Mary Anne’s head under the water but the power of those legs made her relax. Mary Anne forced herself up slightly then was pushed down, her hands trying desperately to tear away Della’s grip. It was then she remembered that the water-trough had a plug in the bottom to allow it to drain. Letting loose of Della’s hands, lungs bursting, Mary Anne felt for the plug and finally got it in her hand. She pulled hard, the plug came free and the water started to rush out. Mary Anne gasped in the air. Della screamed as the spur on Mary Anne’s boot caught her. Her grip relaxed on the girl’s throat and Mary Anne got both feet under Della’s body, then shoved.

  Staggering back Della tripped and sat down. Weakly, Mary Anne rolled herself from the water-trough and clung to it gasping for breath. For a moment they stayed like it, then Della rolled over and grabbed for her bag. Mary Anne did not hesitate. She flung herself forward, landing on the other woman and grabbing her wrist, holding the hand from the bag. Della fought back. Neither was screaming now; they were too short of breath for that. Coming up they staggered dazedly then Mary Anne caught Della a haymaker which rocked the blonde backwards. Della hit the corral rail and slid down to her knees, the bag just under her head. She looked down, then realised what it was. Weakly she reached inside, the Derringer came out and she started to lift it.

  Mary Anne was almost exhausted but her pain-drugged mind was still working well enough to warn her of her danger. She staggered forward even as the sobbing Della started to raise her weapon. In a desperate move Mary Anne lashed up with her foot, the toe of the riding boot catching Della under the chin. Back snapped her head. She rocked over and hit the corral rail, the Derringer falling from her hand. She hung there for an instant then slid sideways. Mary Anne dropped forward and gripped Della’s tangled, dirty blonde hair to smash her head into the corral rail. She did not know what she was doing. It meant nothing to Mary Anne that Della was unconscious.

  ‘Rusty, stop it!’ The voice seemed to be coming from a long way off. ‘Rusty, stop it. You’ll kill her.’

  Hands were gripping Mary Anne. She tried to strain against them but she was too exhausted and allowed her three friends to pull her away from the limp, unconscious woman. She slumped down sobbing as the reaction set in. Molly snapped an order to the O’Dea girls to get a bucket of water.

  It was some minutes before Mary Anne was able to take notice of what was happening. Then she sat on the water-trough and gasped in air while the other three worked on Della. The blonde was conscious and sat with her back to the corral. There was fear in her eyes. Mary Anne forced her aching body up and went forward.

  ‘Don’t let her touch me!’ Della screamed. ‘Keep her away from me.’

  ‘All right,’ Mary Anne looked down at the sobbing blonde. ‘I want some answers and I want them now. What is it all about?’

  The scared Della talked; told how Brarsand learned of the branch line of the railroad. She’d met him in a Kansas cattle-town and they’d come down here. It was Brarsand who’d killed Mary Anne’s father, then found out too late about Mary Anne being in school. He’d been to Chicago to sound out the chances of Molly selling her place out. When he learned she would not he’d located Della’s old boy friend, Doc Pilsener, who’d forged the letter telling Colonel O’Dea to sell. The idea was just as Waco figured it, to cut off the headwater of the Ranse River and break the nesters. When this failed he sent his men to stir up trouble between the S.S.C. and the nesters.

  Mary Anne, aching in every fibre of her body, could still feel admiration for her little brother and the way he’d worked all this out himself. Then she looked down at Della. ‘What were you doing back here?’

  Della licked her bloody lips and gasped, ‘Running out. I’ve done with Carl.’

  ‘Running out, huh?’ Mary Anne looked around and realised the direction Della had been headed. It was then she proved that not only her little brother could think things out. ‘All right, girlie. What did you want at the post office?’

  Della tried desperately to bluff. ‘Post office?’

  Mary Anne clenched her fists and snapped, ‘Stand her up, girls.’

  Molly and the O’Dea girls started to drag Della to her feet but the blonde had taken enough punishment for one day. ‘Don’t hit me! I’ll tell you. I was sending for the sheriff. Carl’s willing to give himself up to the sheriff.’

  ‘Why?’ Mary Anne relaxed, bent and picked up the bag, opening it wide and removing the money, then the key which was underneath.

  ‘His men want to quit. They’ll hang on until the sheriff comes, but no longer.’

  ‘Where’s this key belong?’

  ‘The back door of the saloon,’ Della whimpered. ‘Do not hurt me any more. Leave me alone!’

  This last came in a scream as Mary Anne reached for Della. ‘Get back down there.’ Pulling the ripped shirtwaist into some semblance of order and modesty Mary Anne gave Della a shove. ‘The boy’ll want to know what you just told me.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  WACO PAYS HIS DEBT

  ‘HEY, boy!’

  Waco twisted around at the words, his eyes taking in Mary Anne’s dirty, bruised and dishevelled appearance. ‘What’re you doing here?’ he asked grimly. ‘I thought I told you to stay at the ranch.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Mary Anne answered, bristling. ‘Well, it’s a good thing we didn’t.’ She jerked a thumb over her shoulder and indicated the even more bruised, battered and half-naked Della. ‘She was going to send a telegraph message for the sheriff. I caught her.’

  ‘Sure looks like you
did, Rusty gal.’ Waco grinned at the girl. ‘I should have known better then try and stop you coming in. What’s it all about?’

  ‘Brarsand’s the one we want. Della told us all about it.’

  ‘Looks that way. What’d she say?’ Waco asked.

  ‘Brarsand’s men want out. They’re only sticking because they think the sheriff’ll be coming to get them out.’ Mary Anne glanced at the saloon. ‘Reckon they’ll not be sticking at all if they know Della didn’t make it.’

  Waco agreed with this. The men in the saloon, faced with a long drawn battle with the townspeople, would want to be out of it. Some of them just might stick but the majority would come out of Della’s Tavern like weasel-chased rabbits. He did not know what the girl was thinking of doing and would have stopped her if he’d guessed. Before he could say or do anything Mary Anne pushed Della out into the street in front of her. ‘Walk!’ she snapped. ‘Right in front of the saloon.’

  Della staggered forward at Mary Anne’s push, stumbling blindly along. The firing died down for the men would not risk shooting a woman. Waco drew in his breath; he watched Mary Anne shoving Della along, making for the jail. Red Blaze also saw and darted across the street around the back of the Wells Fargo office and came up to Waco. ‘What the hell?’

  he asked.

  ‘They’ll be coming out any time now,’ Waco answered. ‘Get set.’

  The two girls were just past the saloon when the batwing doors were flung open and a man erupted. gun out. He raced forward but went down under a hail of lead. Then more men came out, some came shooting and were cut down by the attackers, others threw aside their weapons and ran across the street to be taken in charge by the men who gathered.

  Time dragged by slowly and the saloon was silent. Waco called, ‘Brarsand, come out!’

  If Brarsand expected to make Waco rush blindly in he failed badly for the youngster was no fool. Turning to one of the men who’d come out he asked, ‘How many stayed on with him?’