by J. T. Edson
‘Near enough,’ Dusty agreed. ‘But there’s more to it, isn’t there?’
‘A little. I had Giselle do another dance around a second keg and let the Indians see me take it into the shack. Ten Bears and his braves believe it will explode if anybody tries to take it. And it will.’
‘Now you’ve lost me,’ Dusty admitted, guessing what was implied but hoping to gain more information.
‘I’ve got that keg wired up to a battery in my desk,’ Lampart explained, indicating the left side drawer. ‘The moment one of my guards raises the alarm, Giselle or I come in here and touch it off.’
‘You’ve sure got it all worked out slicker’n a hawg greased down for cooking,’ the Kid praised inelegantly.
‘Yes, sir,’ Waco agreed, then grinned. ‘No offence, sir, and with all respect, ma’am, I’d sure admire to see you do that medicine dance.’
‘You’ll have your chance in six days,’ Giselle promised. ‘I do it every time the braves come in to draw their ammunition. We have to take the medicine off and put it back on again. And Ten Bears likes to see me do it.’
‘He’s not alone in that,’ Waco declared, playing ‘Matt Caxton’ to the limit.
‘Aren’t you interested in how Emma comes to be here, Ed?’ Giselle inquired, making it plain that she wanted the subject changing.
‘I figure she’d tell me, was I to ask,’ Dusty replied.
‘Don’t let my wife worry you, Edward,’ Lampart said soothingly. ‘There’s not much to tell. We knew Emma from our theater days and when I decided to open the saloon, I sent for her to come and run it. She agreed and has proved capable and efficient. There are no wanted posters out on her, or any murky secrets.’
‘I never thought there was,’ Dusty stated. ‘But she’s sure one hell of a woman, if you’ll pardon the word, ma’am, and we get along just fine.’
‘Lord!’ Lampart barked, looking at the clock on the dining-room wall. ‘Is that the time? I’ve got to go to a meeting of the Civic Council. Basmanov’s trying to get the “no fires” rule cancelled again. Do you think it would be a good thing to let him, Ed?’
‘Nope,’ Dusty declared, aware of that answer being expected. ‘You get all this town’s smoke rising and somebody might figure out it’s here. Somebody we none of us want to see, like a cavalry patrol.’
‘They’re likely to be out in strength, seeing’s one of their patrols got jumped,’ the Kid went on. ‘Maybe even strong enough to push through this far. Was I you, I’d stand firm against having fires during the day.’
‘Rest assured that I will,’ the mayor promised. ‘I must go now.’
‘We better drift down the barn, boys,’ Dusty remarked. ‘Time we’ve bedded the horses down, it’ll be coming up towards dinner. Juanita and Red won’t like it happen you pair’s late to the Honest Man.’
Chapter Thirteen – It’s Our Town Now, Ed
‘Nice neighborly sort of folks hereabouts, Ed,’ the Kid commented as the trio walked behind the street’s buildings towards the livery bam. ‘One or another of them, they’ve done just about every meanness ’cept hoss-stealing.’
‘Bet some of them’s even done that, but they’re ashamed to admit it,’ Waco went on. ‘Not even their mothers could like ’em.’
‘That’s the way Lampart wants us to think,’ Dusty admitted. ‘Then we’ll not be likely to throw in our hands with anybody else.’
‘He made Emma out clean enough, though,’ Waco remarked. ‘You reckon it’s the truth he told, Brother Ed?’
‘I reckon so,’ Dusty decided. ‘He allows I’ve got a fond feeling for her and doesn’t want to chance lying ’case I learn the truth.’
‘He’s one smart son-of-a-bitch,’ drawled the Kid. ‘Way he’s played things, I can see how he’s got Ten Bears and the medicine woman eating out of his hand.’
‘We’ll either have to bust up his medicine, or get rid of that ammunition before we pull out,’ Dusty declared. ‘Only, right now, I don’t see how we’re going to do either. So we’ll keep playing along with him and watch our chance.’
‘You reckon he trusts us all along the line now, Ed?’ the Kid inquired.
‘I’d say he’s close to it,’ Dusty replied. ‘At least, he’s letting us walk around without anybody hanging on to our shirt tails.’
When the trio reached the barn, they found it deserted except for Pigeons, the custodian of the town’s winged messengers. Apparently Basmanov had already left to attend the meeting of the Civic Council. Being one of the Russian’s supporters, Pigeons exhibited a distinct lack of cordiality and did not offer to help them with their work.
Having fed and done everything necessary for their horses’ well-being, Dusty and his companions returned to the hotel. There they found Red and Juanita waiting, demanding the dinner treat which had been promised to them. Leaving the Kid and Waco to deal with the girls, Dusty went to his own room. Unlocking the door, he went in and slammed to a halt.
‘What the hell—?’ he growled, hurriedly closing the door.
Smiling at his surprise, Giselle rose from his bed. A long cloak was draped over a chair and Dusty could understand why she had worn it. All she had on was a most abbreviated white doeskin copy of an Indian girl’s costume. In two pieces, it covered so little of her that its use on a stage would have resulted in the authorities closing down the theater. Dusty had to admit that the brunette, small though she might be, had a body perfectly developed to complement the outfit. Looking at her, he could see that she had not been boasting when she claimed that she had held the Indian’s attention while her husband had made his preparations to fool them.
‘With Simmy at the Council meeting,’ Giselle remarked, gliding towards Dusty in an undulating, sensual manner, T thought I’d come and show you my medicine dance costume.’
‘You made a poor thought, ma’am,’ Dusty answered, noticing that she halted well clear of his arms’ reach.
‘Don’t you like me?’ Giselle challenged, placing her hands on her head and rotating slowly to let him study her gorgeously molded little body from all sides. ‘I am beautiful, aren’t I? Don’t you think so?’
‘You’ll get no argument from me on that, ma’am,’ Dusty admitted. ‘Any man would, Mrs. Lampart.’
‘But the fact that I am married bothers you.’
‘What bothers me most is you’re married to a man I admire and respect. Which being so, I reckon you’d best get covered over and head for home.’
‘After I picked your lock to get in to see you?’ Giselle pouted, but still kept her distance. ‘You’re sure that’s what you want?’
‘I’ve never been surer,’ Dusty stated. ‘I’m going to see the boys, ma’am, and I’d be truly grateful if you’ll be gone when I get back.’
Leaving the room, Dusty shut the door. He went to his companions’ quarters and found them getting ready, helped by the girls, for the evening’s round of entertainment. With Red and Juanita present, he could not discuss Giselle’s visit. When he returned to his room, he found that the brunette had gone.
That evening, on entering the saloon, Dusty went to where Lampart was sitting in solitary state at Emma’s private table.
‘I don’t know whether to be riled or flattered,’ the small Texan announced as he sat down.
‘That went straight by me,’ Lampart smiled.
‘You sent your wife along to my room to try me out,’ Dusty elaborated. ‘That could’ve riled me up some, except that I reckoned you must trust me enough to know she’d be safe.’
‘And you fully justified my faith in you,’ the mayor praised, then the arrival of Youseman and le Blanc brought the conversation to an end.
During the evening, Dusty noticed an increased air of hostility between Basmanov’s supporters and Lampart’s clique. That told the small Texan why the mayor had been so loquacious at lunch and had sent Giselle to test his loyalty. Unless Dusty missed his guess, Lampart intended to lock horns with the Russian and settle who would control the town; so
wanted to be sure of having ‘Ed Caxton’s’ backing in the showdown.
Nothing was said on the subject until Emma mentioned it indirectly. It was after the saloon had closed for the night and she lay in bed with Dusty’s arms around her.
‘That was one stormy Council meeting this afternoon, Ed,’ the blonde remarked as they separated from a kiss.
‘Was, huh?’ Dusty replied, feeling her snuggling closer to him. ‘Is Basmanov still pushing to get that “no fires” ruling changed?’
‘That’s only part of it,’ Emma answered and kissed him with fiery passion. Drawing back her face, she went on, ‘Mostly he’s trying to make Simmy share out the Civic Improvement Fund instead of holding it all at his place.’
‘Does Simmy do that?’
‘He does. Even some of his own crowd aren’t too happy about it.’
Having delivered the information, Emma started to make love. Dusty had never known her so insistent, or eager to give herself to him. After a time, they lay side by side on their backs and the blonde spoke again.
‘I bet Simmy’s got well over half a million dollars stashed away, Ed, what with the Fund, the profits from the saloon and his share in the other—’
‘What other?’ Dusty demanded as the words trailed off.
‘Connolly and Youseman have found a way of embalming bodies so they’ll keep long enough to be sent out of the Palo Duro and the bounty collected on them.’
‘The hell you say!’ Dusty growled, simulating surprise as he sat up and stared at the blonde through the darkness.
‘It’s true,’ Emma insisted. ‘That’s why Youseman wasn’t in the saloon the night you first came in. They were treating the bodies of those fellers you’d shot. I got the story from Youseman one night when he was drunk. What they do, I mean; it was before you got here. Him and Connolly found out how to do it at Simmy’s suggestion. He fixed up the rest. Hatchet takes the bodies out to one of the towns where the sheriff’s in cahoots with them. They had to take Basmanov in with them when he found out about it. None of them care much for that.’
‘And nobody else knows?’
‘Nobody. Youseman was so drunk that he’s forgotten lie told me. They put the bodies in trick coffins, so anybody who wants can see them. Then, when the lid’s screwed on, the bottom opens to drop the corpse into the basement, the empty box is buried and the body sent out.’
‘That’s the sort of neat planning I’d expect from Simmy,’ Dusty drawled.
‘Is that all it means to you?’ Emma asked, sitting up.
‘What else should it mean?’ Dusty countered.
‘There’s ten thousand dollars on each of your heads,’ the blonde reminded him and slid closer to wrap her arms around him.
‘Simmy’s my friend,’ Dusty pointed out.
‘He was Ben Columbo’s friend too,’ Emma warned, sagging back to the pillow and drawing him with her. ‘There’s still an empty coffin in his grave.’
‘Simmy needs me and the boys’ guns,’ Dusty began, being stopped by her lips crushing against his mouth and tongue slipping between his teeth.
‘The time will come when he doesn’t,’ the blonde cautioned at the completion of the kiss. Her hands roamed over Dusty’s body. ‘What a waste it would be, Ed. Embalming you, I mean.’
‘I’ll have something to say afore they get the chance to do it,’ Dusty threatened.
‘So will I,’ Emma promised and pressed her lips lightly to his. Then she whispered, ‘Ed. Over half a million is a lot of money.’
There the matter came to an end. Clearly waiting for Dusty to make a comment, Emma said no more. He made no response, other than returning her caresses, until sleep claimed them both. The exertions of their lovemaking caused them to be late out of bed next morning. In fact, it was way past noon before they had eaten breakfast and dressed to go downstairs. They found Waco and the Kid in the bar room, although Red and Juanita were no longer in evidence.
‘You pair expecting a war?’ Dusty inquired, nodding to the Winchester in the Kid’s right hand.
‘Nope,’ Waco replied. ‘Last night my Red gal got saying how she just loves turkey. So Comanch’s fixing to go out and shoot one for her.’
‘There’s a gentleman for you,’ Emma praised. ‘The boys take after you, Ed.’
‘They couldn’t pick a better ex—’ Dusty began, then stopped to stare as the side door opened and Giselle ran in. ‘What’s up, Mrs. Lampart?’
‘It’s Basmanov,’ the brunette replied. She was wearing her usual style of clothing and looked concerned. ‘He’s lit the fire in his office stove and Simmy’s going down there to make him put it out.’
‘Could be he’ll need help,’ Dusty barked. ‘Let’s go, boys.’
‘I’ll see to Mrs. Lampart,’ Emma remarked, catching hold of the brunette’s right arm in a firm rather than gentle grip. ‘Leave her to me, Ed.’
‘Gracias, querida,’ Dusty drawled. ‘Don’t you fret none, ma’am, we’ll see Simmy comes back safe.’
Giselle had obviously wasted no time in bringing the news. Leaving the saloon by the rear door, the three Texans saw Lampart halfway along the back of Doctor Connolly’s premises. Hearing their footsteps, he turned to face them,
‘What—How—?’ the mayor gasped, showing surprise and relief.
‘Your lady told us what’s happening,’ Dusty explained. ‘We concluded that you’d need some help.’
‘I do,’ Lampart admitted and indicated the white-handled revolver thrust into his waistband. ‘After the way Basmanov took on at yesterday’s meeting, I’m sure this is his way of calling me out for a showdown.’
‘He’ll have friends along,’ Dusty declared, not offering to walk on.
‘It’s possible,’ the mayor admitted. ‘Pigeons will be there. Probably Diebitch, the blacksmith, Rossi, his usual clique.’
‘Then we’re going to play it smart,’ Dusty decided. ‘I don’t reckon they’ve seen us yet. So you and me’ll go along the street, bold as all get out, right through the front door.’
‘Just the two of us?’
‘Matt and Comanch’ll be around when we need them.’
Leaving his companions, Dusty accompanied the mayor at a leisurely pace through an alley to the street. Already the smoke rising from the barn’s chimney had attracted considerable attention. Men and women pointed it out to each other. Then they turned their gaze to Dusty and Lampart. Only le Blanc offered to help. Carrying a twin-barreled shotgun, he ran from his shop.
‘It’s come then, Simmy?’ the barber greeted.
‘As you say, Jean,’ Lampart confirmed. ‘It’s come.’
‘Don’t walk so fast,’ Dusty advised. ‘Diebitch’s watching us from the front door, so we’ll be expected. Leave them sweat it out a whiles—and let my boys get into place before we go in.’
‘I don’t see Matt or Comanche,’ Lampart reported worriedly, glancing in passing along the alley which separated the barn from its next-door neighbor.
‘It’s lucky Diebitch’s ducked back in,’ Dusty growled. ‘You’d’ve give the whole snap away. They’re around. You can count on it.’
Walking on, the three men stepped through the open front doors of the bam. With le Blanc to his left and Lampart at the right, Dusty studied his surroundings. Basmanov and the slim, vicious-looking Diebitch confronted the trio, but there was no sign of any other members of the Russian’s faction.
‘You know the penalty for lighting a fire between dawn and sundown, Ivan?’ Lampart challenged.
‘I do,’ Basmanov admitted. ‘And you’ll pay it. You and one of your magic tricks lit the stove.’
‘Now who’ll believe that? ’ Lampart asked.
‘I reckon they’ll believe whichever of us comes out of it alive,’ Basmanov grinned. ‘Only you wouldn’t have the guts to face me man to man.’
‘Wouldn’t I?’ countered Lampart.
‘You’ve brought le Blanc and Caxton along,’ the Russian pointed out.
‘Only to see
fair doings,’ Dusty drawled. ‘If Mr. Diebitch’ll back off, me and Jean’ll leave you gents settle this between you.’
‘That suits me,’ Diebitch stated fervently and moved aside.
‘And me,’ Lampart declared. ‘Go and wait by the doors, gentlemen.’
‘To show I don’t want no edge,’ Basmanov said, when Dusty and le Blanc had obeyed. ‘I’ll ask you to count to five, Mr. Caxton. We’ll draw when you get there.’
‘Go ahead, Ed,’ Lampart commanded.
‘One!’ Dusty said. ‘Two!’
Down drove Basmanov’s right hand, closing about the butt of his gun. At the same moment, he saw a mocking smile playing on Lampart’s lips. It was the expression of a man who had out-bluffed a bluffer.
As soon as Basmanov moved, the mayor whipped out his own revolver. Although it had an ivory handle, it proved to be a snub-nosed British Webley Bulldog and not the Colt Peacemaker from the top of his desk. Twice the weapon crashed, with a speed that was only possible by trigger pressure—as opposed to fanning the hammer—when using a self-cocking, double-action mechanism. Although he had started his draw slightly after the Russian, Lampart had about six inches less barrel to get clear. That made all the difference. His bullets tore into Basmanov’s chest before the other’s gun could point at him.
‘Get them!’ Diebitch screamed, grabbing for the revolver he wore.
Throwing up his shotgun, le Blanc cut loose from waist level. Seven of the nine buckshot balls which belched from the right hand tube found their mark and flung Diebitch lifeless from his feet.
While Dusty had agreed to take a passive role, he had been under no delusions regarding Basmanov’s sense of fair play. So he had been prepared for treachery and knew instinctively where it would come from. Sure enough, Pigeons loomed into sight from behind the hay-bales at the front of the loft and started to swing a shotgun to his shoulder. Even as Lampart’s Webley spoke, Dusty’s hands crossed with their usual speed. The small Texan took the extra split-second needed to raise his right hand weapon to eye-level and take aim. He shot the only way he dared in the circumstances, for an instant kill. Passing Pigeons’ rising shotgun, the .45 bullet winged into his head.
