by J. T. Edson
“You forget that, gal,” Waco ordered grimly. “Lay a hand on her and she’d scream for the law so fast you wouldn’t know how come they landed on you. Say, I know a nice li’l place down town apiece. How about coming along and eating with me?”
“Maybe later,” she answered distantly. “Where’re you staying?”
“Down at the Creed. I thought to look in and see how Doc’s doing, then I want to send a telegraph message to Cap’n Bert.”
“Then why not come back when you’ve done it? Bill likely won’t be back until morning, so I’ll be free.”
Waco touched his hat to the girl. He was puzzled by her and wondered what she meant to do. For a moment he thought of trying to get her away from the hotel, but before he could speak he saw her turn and walk away.
The desk clerk threw a disapproving glance at Tioga as she collected her room key. Ladies who stayed at the Grand Hotel did not often dress in such a manner. Of course the company the girl was with might account for her taste in clothes. One thing the clerk did not doubt, that man who called himself Graham would not take kindly to anyone insulting his lady friend.
Tioga might have made some remark but she was too thoughtful as she went upstairs. Curly Bill was a rustler, an outlaw, even though nobody had ever got around to proving it in court. He was also generous, genial, kindhearted within limits. At any other time he would never have thought of calling down a man who couldn’t hope to beat him. The woman upstairs brought it about. If Bill had pulled the trigger, he would have found himself facing a charge of attempted murder at least. The town marshal of Bisbee might turn a blind eye on Bill’s visit as long as he spent money and kept the peace. He would not allow Bill to gun down the juggler, and even if Carville, the marshal!, did, that tall, young, and soft-talking Texan who rode as one of Mosehan’s Arizona Rangers would not overlook it. Either way Curly Bill would be in trouble, for he was not the sort of man to surrender to the law.
The hall at the top of the stairs was deserted, since, apart from Curly Bill’s rooms, Lily’s was the only suite occupied. On the wall over the side window was a large clock that showed quarter to five. Soon it would be dark; already the sun was sinking and shadows forming.
Entering her own room, Tioga paced up and down for a long moment. She came to a halt before the mirror in the sitting room and looked at herself. She saw in that moment what Waco meant about her dressing like a slut. Tioga’s hands clenched and she swore she would buy a decent dress in the morning. Yet there was one thing she could do before she stopped dressing and acting like a slut.
With Tioga, to decide meant to act. She hitched up her jeans in a determined manner and left the room, closing the door and leaving the key on the inside. She drew in a deep breath and crossed to knock at Lily’s door.
Lily Carlisle wrenched the door open, her enraged curses dying unborn as she saw Tioga instead of her two musclemen or the dresser standing outside.
“What do you want here?” she snapped.
Tioga put her shoulder down and pushed the door open. Before Lily could close it Tioga stood in the room. Lily fell back a few steps, cold hate glowing in her eyes as she looked at the girl.
“What do you want, shoving in here?” she repeated.
“I just came to see what sort of a woman would set a man up to be killed or hurt bad, just because he got more clapping and laughing on a stage.”
The woman faced the girl; they looked like two cats on a fence. Lily still wore her robe, the front open just enough to show there was nothing underneath it. Tioga studied the woman. Lily stood a couple of inches taller and likely weighed heavier. On the older woman’s face lay a look of hate and worse. Suddenly Tioga felt she might have bitten off more than she could chew.
“Get out of here!” Lily’s voice rose in a screech.
“When I’ve told you what I think,” Tioga answered. “My man nearly ended up trading lead with that young Texas boy. One way or another, happen things went an inch off the trail, there’d have been men die through you.”
“Clear out of here, you lousy little bitch—”
“Old woman. If I’m a lousy bitch and you aren’t, I’m surely glad I am.”
Lily’s hand swung around, the palm slapping hard against Tioga’s cheek, snapping her head to one side and sending her staggering. Then with a scream Lily hurled herself forward, hands like reaching claws. Tioga, taken by surprise, hit the wall, and before she could recover Lily was onto her. One hand dug deep into Tioga’s tawny hair, knotted deep and tearing at it, while the other slashed down, nails aiming at Tioga’s cheek.
Pain cleared Tioga’s spinning head. Pain and the sudden awareness that unless she acted quickly she would not have much of a face left. Her hair felt as if it were being torn out at the roots but she managed to get her face away from the main force of the claws. She felt a stinging pain as Lily’s nails touched her cheek, then they were gone. Lily screamed and lashed her hand across Tioga’s face savagely.
Tioga had tangled in hair-yanking brawls with other girls before. She was over the shock now and all set to show Lily Carlisle a thing or two. Her right fist drove into Lily’s stomach, bringing a croak of pain. It also brought about a relaxing of the grip on her hair. Getting her hands on Lily’s shoulders, Tioga gave her a push that sent her staggering away.
Only for an instant. Tioga knew she had got herself into something more than she aimed to. She knew for certain when Lily flung herself forward again. They met and tangled like a pair of enraged wildcats, reeling across the room with hands clawing, slapping, punching, pushing, feet kicking and hacking.
Neither made a sound except when pain brought a squeal or cry from her lips.
Tioga hooked her legs around behind Lily and they crashed to the floor, rolling and thrashing. The buttons of Tioga’s blouse popped off and the blouse crawled out of her jeans, leaving bare her round full breasts, for the shirt was all she wore.
Lily’s robe came open, tangling around them, her huge bosom heaving as she fought with the girl.
Over and over they rolled, first one then the other briefly on top. They came to their knees tearing at hair, then threw their arms around each other’s neck and smashed down again. Tioga slammed Lily’s head against the floor, tossed a leg astride her, and sat on her body, knees crushing on either side of the other woman’s big breasts.
“Give it up!” Tioga gasped, sobbing for breath.
Lily’s back arched and she thrashed wildly but the girl’s weight held her. Tioga grabbed the woman’s hair, but before she could do anything Lily had crossed her hands and raked nails down from Tioga’s shoulders. The nails bit in hard; Tioga screamed and jerked away. Then Lily brought up her knees, smashing them into the girl’s back and throwing her forward. Tioga crashed to the floor and rolled to her hands and knees. Lily also came up and flung herself to the dressing table, dragging open a drawer to reach for an ivory-handled paper knife that lay inside. Without knowing what was in the drawer, Tioga hurled forward, her arms locked around Lily’s waist, and they crashed on to the bed.
Over and over the two fighting women thrashed, off the bed and onto the floor to come apart and again stand up. Lily’s mouth hung open; the gleam in her eyes was more than anger, it verged almost on madness. Tioga saw it, turned to run, but Lily was after her and they tangled again, fighting on with the savagery of two primeval creatures.
The door to Lily’s room opened. Tioga clung to it, gasping for breath and trying to prevent herself from falling. Her shirt still hung open and had been all but torn from one shoulder, the sleeve having gone. She had lost one moccasin in the fight too. Her left eye was discolored and swollen, her nose trickled blood, which she licked from bruised lips. On her right cheek, across her shoulders and neck were vicious scratches, and blood trickled from a bite on her arm. For a moment she leaned on the door frame, then she stumbled forward, leaving the door open. Pure instinct made her glance at the head of the stairs,
but no one was in sight. Her eyes went
to the clock on the wall; the time was just gone quarter past five. They must have been fighting for almost half an hour, she thought dazedly as she pushed open the door of her own suite.
It took all Tioga’s strength and willpower to close and lock the door. The room appeared to be spinning around before her eyes as she staggered across it into her bedroom. Tioga leaned against the bedroom door, closing it behind her. She wanted to get away from the hotel. Her every instinct warned her she must run, for she had gone too far this time. Yet the bed looked soft, tempting. It would soothe the ache that filled every inch of her frame. Each scratch and bruise seemed to have developed a separate pain of its own now. She stumbled forward and fell on to the bed. Lying face down, Tioga sobbed in pain. Then the sobs died away as she seemed to dive into a bottomless pit.
In the office of the town marshal Waco talked with Carville, a big, burly man, well dressed, something of a politician, but a square lawman. He shoved back his hat, rising, and held out his hand to Carville.
“I’ll tell Cap’n Bert what you said,” Waco promised. “Reckon I’ll be going along to the Creed and see if that baby’s made his appearance yet.”
On the wall the clock chimed seven. Carville glanced at it and smiled. The young Texan had held his attention for the past hour. He pushed back his own chair and rose to go for his dinner.
In the Creed Hotel room the coyote wail of a newborn baby rang out. Doc Leroy wiped sweat from his face and then dropped his hand to Janice’s stomach. He looked at the doctor’s wife and she saw the tension in his face.
“Lord,” he gasped, looking at the tiny bundle of life his skill had brought into the world. “I thought he was a tiny one. Look!”
For the first time in his life Doc Leroy was scared when handling a doctoring chore. The woman wrapped the baby in a blanket and lay it in the cot brought up by the room clerk. Then she turned.
“Go ahead. You’ve done all right so far.”
The scream of a woman brought Waco on the run to the Grand Hotel instead of visiting his partner. The usual sort of crowd had formed there; people coming from the dining room or passing. They crowded around the reception desk, where a woman in a sober black dress was screaming hysterically. Waco saw the young deputy who spent most of his time hanging around the theater. The young man was racing upstairs with urgent strides, which warned Waco there was bad trouble on hand.
Waco forced his way through the crowd, shoving people aside until he was at the front. He looked at the sobbing, hysterical woman and the white-faced clerk behind the desk.
“She’s laying on-the bed,” the woman gasped. “She’s dead!”
Waco turned and went for the stairs. The owner of a prosperous mine, pushed aside as Waco went through the crowd, opened his mouth to growl something. He closed the mouth again as he caught the look on Waco’s face. In two years as a Ranger Waco had become fairly well known in Arizona Territory and the mine owner was a man who knew him.
The door of Lily Carlisle’s bedroom was open and Waco went to it. The young deputy stood just inside, his face without any color as he stared across the room.
Lily Carlisle lay face up on the bed, her robe hanging open, her knickers torn. There were bruises on her face and body, one eye was puffed almost shut, the other discolored and staring dully. Across her naked stomach were four livid scratches torn by clawing nails. From just under the left breast rose the hilt of a knife.
“God!” croaked the deputy as if he were being strangled. “Look at her!”
His words came too late. Waco had looked and seen all he needed to see. Now his eyes went around the room. The bed was in a state of upheaval, blankets and sheets torn from it and lying on the floor. The solitary chair was broken and lay on its side, the rugs rumpled and scattered, the dressing table swept clear, makeup gear and an empty velvet-lined jewel case scattered as if they’d been thrown at the walls. Among all the tangle and mess lay the sleeve of a shirt and a moccasin.
Scooping up the shirtsleeve, the young deputy swung toward Waco, his face twisted in anger.
“That gal with Curly Bill-she had a shirt like this!”
“Sure,” agreed Waco, cursing himself for not having guessed Tioga would come and see Lily Carlisle.
The deputy turned and flung himself from the room, crossing the passage with his shoulder down. He smashed into the door of the Brocious suite and burst it open with almost superhuman strength. The sitting room was empty, but a sound in the bedroom sent him across the room. He wrenched open the door and leaped forward.
Tioga, naked to the waist, was trying to force up the stiff sash of the window. She heard a low almost animal snarl, a hand gripped her shoulder, and she was dragged backward. The deputy slammed Tioga into the wall, his hand coming around to snap her head over to one side. She screamed in terror as the hate-distorted face loomed above her. The deputy flung wild, hysterical blows at Tioga and the girl’s hands came up to protect her face.
“You lousy bitch!” the deputy screamed. “You lousy, no-good calico cat, you killed Lily!”
A hand caught the deputy’s arm and hauled him away from the terrified girl. He spun around, mouthing insane curses and dropping his hand toward the butt of his gun. Then Waco hit him, shooting out a fist with every ounce of strength in his powerful frame. The deputy’s head jolted back and he went reeling across the room, losing his balance and crashing down by the wall.
Tioga had returned to the window, weakly trying to force it up. She let out a scream of terror as Waco caught her and thrust her back on to the bed. The scream turned to a terrified and hysterical laugh.
“Quit it, gal,” Waco barked.
By the wall stood a washstand, a jug of cold water at its side. Waco caught this up and threw the water into the girl’s face. The hysterical screaming ended and Tioga sat on the edge of the bed gasping for breath as she looked at him.
The sound of voices brought Waco around. The sitting room was full of people, men and women come from downstairs and the floor above. Waco crossed the room and stepped out, closing the door behind him. His eyes ran across the crowd, resting on a plump, matronly woman who seemed to be the calmest of them all.
“Go in there, ma’am,” he said. “Watch the gal for me. The rest of you get the hell out of here and stay clear of that room across the passage.”
“You can’t speak to me like that,” boomed a pompous-looking man. “Who do you think you are?”
“I know who I am, mister. I’m a Territorial Ranger. Now get out of here and send for the town marshal.”
The crowd backed off, all the pompousness leaving the man. Throughout all Arizona Territory one law enforcement body was known and respected. The Rangers acknowledged no man but Mosehan as their boss. When on a case, they did not respect persons and civic status meant nothing to them. So the people left the room and stood in the passage outside. Several cast looks at the closed doors of Lily’s suite but not one offered to enter the rooms.
Returning to the bedroom, Waco looked down at the young deputy. He was now groaning his way to consciousness but would not make any trouble for a spell. So the young Texan turned his attention to Tioga. The girl sat huddled on the bed, her face showing strain and fear as she threw off the sheet the woman tried to drape around her shoulders.
“What happened, Tioga gal?” Waco asked.
“He-he—” she replied, indicating the deputy, “said she was dead and that I killed her.”
“She’s dead. Now get something over you.”
The bite in Waco’s voice shook Tioga into some response.
She allowed the woman to drape the sheet around her once more. Then she looked at Waco.
“I didn’t kill her. Sure we went at it tooth’n claw, but I didn’t kill her. I left her flat on her back on the floor. She was alive. Whining and moaning something awful. But she was alive.”
The room door opened and Carville entered. His eyes went first to the girl, then to his deputy, and finally to Waco. He bent down and lifted th
e deputy’s head. The young man groaned and tried to get to his feet.
“Her?” Carville growled.
“Me,” Waco replied.
Carville moved clear of the deputy and stood up. “Why?”
“He went hawg wild, was like to kill the girl. So I stopped him.”
“Did you have to do it that way?”
“Sure. Which same he’s lucky. I don’t take to any man mishandling a gal and trying to pull a gun on me when I stop him.”
Ten seconds ticked away as the two men faced each other. Carville could handle a gun but knew he was outclassed by the young Texan. He also knew Waco would not lie.
“Let’s take her in,” he said, reaching toward Tioga.
“Why for?”
“She killed Lily Carlisle.”
“You see her do it, Marshal?”
Carville glanced at Waco. “I saw who she came into town with.”
“So what? I rode in with Doc Leroy but I sure enough couldn’t handle that baby delivery the way he’s doing.”
Waving his hand toward Tioga’s bruised face, the marshal growled, “Look at her.”
“You seen Lily Carlisle?”
“Naw, the manager’s wife told me when I came in.”
“Get your deputy out of here, then we’ll take a look,” Waco suggested.
It said much for the respect Carville held the Rangers in that he obeyed without question. He helped the groaning deputy to his feet, held him as he tried to lunge at the girl, and thrust him through the open door. There were two more deputies in the other room and Carville told them to see that the young man did not come back inside.
Waco stepped to the bed and looked down at the girl. “Now listen to me, gal. Dig another shirt out and put it on. Don’t try and run for it again.”
Tioga looked at him with dull, scared eyes. “They’ll hang me—”
“Not unless you did it,” Waco answered, then looked at the woman. “See if you can tidy her up a mite, ma’am. You going to do what I say, gal?”
“They’ll string me—”
“Cut it, gal. Now pass your word that you won’t run or I’ll hawg-tie you.”
