by J. T. Edson
“Why should I?” Lachlan yelped, without either he or the woman realizing they had inadvertently played into the hands of General Philo Handiman, who had hoped the destruction of the genuine plates would happen in the mistaken belief that they were of no use.
“Because I’ve done my part of the deal,” Libby declared. “And it’s no fault of mine that you can’t use what I brought you. So you’re going to pay up. It’s me or the law!”
“You daren—!” the fence croaked.
“Try me,” the reddish-brunette challenged, oozing the confidence of one who knew she held an unbeatable hand. “I’ve written down everything about how the deal was arranged and—!”
“How did sh—?” Beagle began, entering and bringing the declaration to a halt as quickly as his own question was ended by the Smith & Wesson being turned his way.
“Don’t you try anything!” Libby warned, directing the words at Lachlan and causing him to refrain from taking the action he was contemplating. “The letter’s with a friend I can trust all the way, and it’ll be sent to the law if anything should happen to me.”
“Get out of the office altogether, damn you!” the fence snarled, having no doubt he was being told the truth and considering it inadvisable to let his employee learn too much about his present affairs. After checking that the order was obeyed, he turned his attention back to the woman. “They haven’t paid me, so—!”
“The hell they haven’t!” the reddish-brunette asserted. “You wouldn’t go outside to buy a paper for anybody else unless you’d had the money for it on the barrelhead, so I want what’s coming to me.”
“There’s a way you can get it—and more.”
“How?”
“The real plates are going to be sent to San Francisco.”
“So?”
“So, according to my informant—who I told you is in a good position to be able to have learned about it—the plan is that another fake set are going under a heavy escort,” Lachlan explained, impressed by the completely ruthless nature of the woman and her obvious planning ability. He had decided that she might be able to help him out of the serious state of affairs in which he had become involved; the men who had hired him to bring off the theft of the printing plates had been menacing on learning that the otherwise successful result of the robbery had—or so it was made to appear, although he and they were unaware of this fact—proved to be of no use. “But, to avoid allowing any further unfavorable sentiments being aroused by the ‘liberal’ newspapers over more lives being lost if there is another attempt made to steal them, the genuine article is going to be taken there by a roundabout route.”
“Who’ll be doing the taking?” Libby asked, noticing the speculative way in which she was being watched.
“I can’t—!” the fence commenced, not wishing to let himself appear too eager to comply. Then he gave a shrug and went on, “Why shouldn’t I? It’s going to be a woman who Pinkerton’s have had pretending to be a very rich girl from Texas called Betty Hardin while she was watching somebody at the Grand Republic Hotel.”
“A -woman?” the reddish-brunette queried in a disbelieving voice that did not arise from hearing of Belle Boyd’s supposedly being a member of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency, as this was a long-established myth arranged by General Handiman—with the willingly supplied cooperation of that organization’s current leader—as a means of avoiding her official status from being discovered. “Not just any woman,” Lachlan corrected. “She’s the one they still call the Rebel Spy.”
“Is she, now?” Libby purred. “I hear she’s pretty good.”
“She’s better than just pretty good by all accounts,” the fence claimed. “So good, in fact, that it’s been decided to let her make the delivery without any escort that might draw unwanted attention her way.”
“Has it, now?”
“It has.”
“Now, that is interesting,” the reddish-brunette almost purred. “Have you any idea how she’s going to do it?”
“I told you my informant was good,^ Lachlan pointed out, his whole bearing redolent of the satisfaction he was feeling over having aroused such interest from his visitor that she had allowed the revolver to dangle by her side. However, with what he was hoping to achieve, he made no attempt to take advantage of this. “She’s going out to a place called Ellsworth by train. It’s the most eastern of those Kansas trail-end towns—!”
“I know” Libby interrupted with impatience. “But why’s she stopping there instead of keeping headed straight to “Frisco?”
“That’s the smart part,” the fence replied. “She’ll be going by stagecoach down to Texas and is being collected by a steam frigate at Galveston to take her by sea to San Francisco.”
“That’s a hell of a long way “round,” the reddish-brunette pointed out.
“As I said, that’s the smart part,” Lachlan answered. “The government are so determined to have the delivery brought off without any more trouble or killings that they don’t mind the delay. So she’ll be going to Texas in a way that nobody will think there’s anything out of the ordinary.”
“What’s that?” Libby asked.
“She’ll still be pretending to be this Betty Hardin who’s now on her way to her home on a ranch in Rio Hondo County,” the fence explained. “That way, nobody will suspect the truth and there won’t be any need for her to have an escort.”
Ten – They’re All Dead!
“So you’ve come back, have you?”
Even before Libby Craddock heard the words being directed her way in a savagely angry feminine voice she recognized, she had already sensed all was not well at the Circus Maximus.
Having accepted the offer made by Lachlan Lachlan of the McLachlans to steal what they believed would be the genuine set of currency printing plates that would be transported by Belle Boyd to San Francisco by taking a roundabout route, the only thing the reddish-brunette had required settling was how much carrying out the assignment would pay and what she was to receive in an advance. The latter had been the cause of some acrimonious debate before her claim that she needed money to cover the heavy expenses carrying out the robbery would entail was yielded to with very bad grace by the fence.
In fact, Lachlan had only surrendered to Libby’s demand when she had pointed out—backed with a threatening gesture from her Smith & Wesson revolver, which she had not put away—she knew far too much about what was going on to be cut out of it. Therefore, she had said, because of what she knew, it was a case of her participating or she would inform the authorities of the scheme in such a way that she would avoid arrest for her part in the robbery and murder of the guards on the train. The fence had no doubt that she meant to keep her word and keeping in mind how she had told him there was a letter that would incriminate him waiting to be sent if he should succeed in having her killed. What was more, despite the dislike that had returned, he had felt sure she was intelligent and ruthless enough to produce the desired result.
Receiving the sum of money she required, the reddish-brunette had taken her leave of the fence. Being cautious and having no trust in him, she had kept a careful watch to her rear as she was taking a roundabout route toward the railroad depot. Before she had gone far, she had caught sight of Beagle following her. In one respect, the dishonest jockey could have counted himself lucky. Lying in wait for him in an alley, she had done no more than rendered him unconscious with the butt of her revolver instead—as was her first inclination—settling the matter permanently by using her knife. Satisfied that the way was clear for her to rejoin her companions without Lachlan being able to find her, she had boarded the appropriate train to let her catch up with the circus.
Confident it was safe for her to do so, shortly before arriving at the town where the next shows were to take place, Libby had taken her one suitcase into the rest room at the end of the car she was using. Having removed the makeup for the disguise and taken out the kind of clothing she wore for everyday use, she had done a
quick change into it and put away the other garments. Then, waiting until she was given an opportunity to do so without being seen by the few passengers in the car, she went to her seat and, as an examination of the tickets by the conductor had taken place earlier, remained there unchallenged until the train came to a halt.
Much to her surprise, as she had told them at what time they could expect her to return, none of her four male accomplices were anywhere to be seen when she descended to the platform. While she had expected either Jinks or Stanislaus Padoubny to be there so as to lend her a hand with her small amount of baggage, knowing why she had gone to Washington, D.C., she had thought the Martinelli brothers would be present if only to look out for their interests. Deciding against waiting in case there had been something to delay their coming, she went from the depot with the intention of making her own way to where she had been told the circus would be set up.
Because the small town did not offer the service of a cabriolet or any other similar type of vehicle plying for private hire, the reddish-brunette had to make her way to the circus on foot. Night had already fallen and, as she was drawing near, the first thing to strike her was how quiet everything was. There were the usual lights burning to illuminate the surrounding area, but the big top was in darkness and none of the usual music came to her ears. Nor, although the large and garishly colored balloon was inflated and anchored down ready for use, could she see anything to suggest even the sideshows were in operation.
Being aware that one had been planned for that evening, Libby wondered why Cosmo Caithness had elected to cancel the performance. She knew he was so penny-pinching that only something of grave importance would have led him to miss the chance of taking in money. The reason could not be because she was absent, as, having studied the train schedules on arriving and been satisfied she could do so, she had obtained grudging permission from him for the others to fill in until she arrived in enough of her acts to pad out the bill and avoid complaints by the customers who attended about the brevity of what would otherwise take place. Caithness had not been eager to comply, but he knew how the success of his enterprise depended upon her various talents and dared not do anything to antagonize her in case this caused her to quit.
She swung around at the words, which she resented being directed her way in such a fashion no matter how justified the cause might be. What she saw gave her a slight sense of alarm. She was being approached in a distinctly hostile fashion by four of the women “flashers” who paraded around the ring, some wearing copies of her various types of attire, to give the impression that the show had far more actual performers than was the case. However, none of them were in any form of costume. Being aware that her assumption of superiority over them had always been the cause of resentment, she had been convinced that her status as a multi star performer—whereas none of them had the talent to perform even one—and the reputation she had acquired for being very dangerous to cross rendered her unlikely to be subjected to reprisals. Taking in the demeanor of the quartet, she concluded that this must have changed for some reason.
“Just who do you think you’re talking to?” the reddish-brunette demanded, dropping the suitcase and slipping her right hand into the bulky bag to grasp the butt of the Smith & Wesson.
‘You, of course,” the largest of the four answered, being as Libby knew the one who had addressed her. “Who else?”
Equaling the reddish-brunette in height, good looking in a coarse way and with untidily piled-up hair that needed treatment to retain its blond hue, the woman was heavier. Furthermore, as she had to lend a hand with the work of setting up the big top in addition to other tasks calling for the employment of muscle power, there was little or no flabby fat on her Junoesque frame. In fact, she was the only -one of the female employees of the circus whom Libby had always regarded as needing to avoid being provoked into hostile action. Going by appearance, for some reason she could not guess at, she might be given no choice in the matter.
What was more alarming, the reddish-brunette sensed from the way the other three “flashers” were eyeing her with an equal animosity that if a fight started she might not be in contention against only a single antagonist. To add to her growing sense of consternation, she was aware of just how dangerous coming under attack by the whole group, or even the blonde under the circumstances, might be. Even if she should prevail in single conflict and was not subjected to a mass attack when this was seen to be taking place, she stood a good chance of being left in no condition to set off on the assignment from Lachlan as soon as she must to have a chance of achieving a successful conclusion.
Yet a further source of trepidation for Libby came as she realized that none of the men with whom she had committed two robberies, ending in a double murder on each occasion—the last time having been premeditated—were anywhere to be seen. In fact, she was as puzzled by their continued absence as she had been at the depot. Knowing how they were all eager to find out how much they had profited from the second robbery, she felt they ought at least to have kept an eye open for her arrival at the circus grounds and come to greet her. If they had, she would now have nothing to fear from the “flashers.”
The realization raised another deeply disturbing point for the reddish-brunette.
Why were the women adopting such an attitude when they must know they would be prevented from making an attack, or stopped very quickly and painfully by the midget clown and the strong man.
“What the hell do you four think you’re doing?”
Libby could not remember when the sound of Cosmo Caithness’s voice had been so pleasant to her ears.
Glancing away from the menacing quartet, the reddish-brunette saw with relief that the large and flashily dressed proprietor of the circus was coming toward her at a greater speed than usual. As was generally the case around the circus, he was carrying the long-handled buggy whip he used as a symbol of his authority and a means of enforcing his will upon recalcitrant members of his show—including the “flashers” on occasion-—when they objected to doing what he wanted. Although normally he made an effort to retain an appearance of affluence, despite running on as close to a shoestring budget as it was possible for the moderately successful organization to keep, his attire had traces of a greater disarray than she had ever seen before. What was more, his left eye was discolored and swollen to an extent that it resembled a blue point oyster peeping from its shell.
“We thought—!” the blonde began.
“Then don’t!” Caithness snarled, holding his tones down to a lower level than was usual. “Get to your quarters and leave the thinking to me. We’ve got enough trouble around here without you bunch adding to them.”
“What’s happening, Cosmo?” Libby asked after the quartet had shuffled away in a clearly far from liked retreat. As usual, she was trading upon her importance as a performer to use the circus owner’s given name when everybody else addressed him as “Colonel Caithness”—the military rank being assumed as he had never served in any capacity with the army—or “sir” and went on, “It has to be something bad for those cheap tail-peddlers—!”
“It is something bad!” Caithness confirmed. “Only, I’m not going to tell you about it out here with them probably watching us.”
“Who?” the reddish-brunette queried, knowing only something of unusual magnitude could cause the generally bombastic man to behave in such a fashion.
“I’ll tell you in my caravan,” Caithness promised, the living quarters for such of the personnel and their families who were resident on the lot having been brought by train with the show’s animals and equipment.
“What’s this all about, Cosmo?” Libby asked, setting down the suitcase she had retrieved so as to have both hands free and using the right to once more grip the butt of the Smith & Wesson revolver. “And where are Jinks and Laus?”
“They’re dead,” the circus owner replied quietly, looking at where the reddish-brunette had put her hand and drawing the conclusion that he had bes
t not try the tactics he had intended to use. “In fact, they’re all dead.”
“Who?” Libby could not resist inquiring, although she could guess the answer.
“Jinks, Padoubny, and the Martinellis,” Caithness replied, as the reddish-brunette had anticipated would prove to be the case.
“How did it happen?”
“Lord only knows how it started. Probably that evil little bastard pushed the wops too far. Anyway, the first I knew of it was when I heard a hell of a commotion behind the big top. By the time I got there, Jinks was down, gutted like a stuck pig. Padoubny was just as badly carved, but he’d already busted Lou’s neck and was choking Van. Before we could make him let loose by hitting him with tent stakes, Van was as dead as Kelsey’s nuts and he went off a few seconds later. It couldn’t have happened at a worse time.”
“In what way?” Libby wanted to know, realizing from what she had heard that she now had nobody with whom to share the proceeds of the two robberies and having meant to handle the recovery of the currency-printing plates without assistance from any of the quartet.
“I had the local chief of police and the mayor’s top errand boy in here to sweeten them up so there wouldn’t be any beef should the gilpins and rubes start saying they’d been rooked at one of the sideshows,” the circus owner explained in deeply bitter tones. “It might not have been so bad even then, as I got the feeling there were some sticky palms around that would take greasing, but it didn’t stay in local hands. Some fellers with proof they came from the Treasury Department arrived and told me that, as they’d found out all four of them had been on the train that got robbed, they were going to search their quarters.”
“And did they?” the reddish-brunette asked, relieved that she had refrained from splitting the proceeds of the robbery at the Grand Republic Hotel—despite the demands by the Martinellis that it should be done—and had it concealed in the safest place she could conceive.
