by J. T. Edson
“Mundy said Olga was to win,” the second reminded Eeney. “He isn’t going to like it if she doesn’t.”
Eeney did not care what Mundy liked. She was not worried by the prospect of a serious fight with Olga and in fact rather welcomed it. The blonde was Mundy’s favourite and no love was lost between her and the other girls. Eeney was not afraid of fighting seriously. There were other troupes of girl fist fighters going the rounds and Eeney in the two years she had been with Mundy had fought several real fights. She knew that Olga had also fought seriously and would take some beating. Glancing down she saw the German miner waving to her and smiled back at him, then time was called and she went forward.
Olga attacked immediately, lunging in with hard fists ripping at Eeney. The German girl rocked under the impact then her own fists started to score. Three times she felt her knuckles catch Olga’s cheek, rocking her head, then the right came across. The punch was timed beautifully, Olga’s head snapped to one side and she hit the ropes. Coming off the blonde threw her arms round Eeney and started to hug her in a brutal crushing move. The rules of barefist boxing were far more lax and allowed things which were later barred from boxing. Olga was in her rights to use this crush and, she put he pressure on, feeling Eeney’s firm body fighting against her and the breath being forced from Eeney’s lungs. Suddenly Olga let loose and Eeney staggered back. The blonde followed her and while she was still off balance brought round and down a smashing left which laid Eeney on the floor again.
‘Your gal’s not doing so good, Dutchy,” the Kid remarked he sat back and rolled a smoke.
‘It’s early yet,” Dutchy answered. “You watch her.”
Mark was watching, mildly surprised that the women were really fighting. He saw the way the referee was fussing around and guessed that this fight was not going to plan.
From her place on the bar Bearcat Annie was also watching everything and so far was not worried. She could not tell at this distance that the girls were not following the plan and thought their faking was well done. The first inkling she had of trouble was when the next round started and in a fast exchange of blows in the ring centre saw Olga rock back on her heels with blood running from her nose. Bearcat Annie slid down from the bar, showing a pair of shapely legs but no one was looking. She crossed the floor and from the tense, angry looks knew the two women were really fighting. There was no play acting in the way their fists landed on each other and the angry grunts and squeals were not faked.
“Great fight, Annie!” an excited miner said as she went by.’
“Yeah, great!”
Bearcat Annie grunted the reply as she saw Eeney butt Olga in the stomach then rip up a punch that straightened the fat girl. Olga was wobbling on her feet, head spinning. She was wide open to the right Eeney smashed at the side of her jaw and went down hard.
At a table she was passing Bearcat Annie stopped by Soehnen and others of the big mine owners. They were valued customers and Annie knew she would arouse suspicions if she did not stay and talk with the men. They were all praising her for the inspiration which brought in the women fist fighters.
The fourth round started with Olga getting the worst of a hard slugging attack and Bearcat Annie was forced to stand there, writhing in an agony of suspense while Eeney battered the blonde around the ring. Olga was tottering and looked about done as she sank to her knees.
“What’s wrong?” Bearcat Annie growled, climbing on to the ring and holding a drink to Mundy. Miners were offering Olga drinks although Eeney was left free of their attentions.
“Eeney wants to win tonight for some reason,” Mundy replied. He knew the saloon keeper wanted Olga to win but thought it merely so that she could tell her man to lay odds.
“Tell her she can’t.” Bearcat Annie could see her carefully arranged plan failing. “What started it?”
“Some miner bet a wad on her and she thinks he’ll be bust if she loses.” Mundy had taken the precaution of finding out.
“Go tell her he’s the richest man in town. Could afford to lose it all and think nothing of it. Tell her we’ll let her fight again before she goes and let him win his money back then.”
“She wouldn’t believe it.”
“She’d better, or you bunch won’t get paid.”
Bearcat Annie turned and walked away, the man stared after her, then went to talk to Eeney. The brunette frowned; she did not like what she was told and did not believe that Dutchy would get a chance to win his money back. She glanced at him, he certainly looked wealthy and he was with the town lawman. She knew that many town marshals played attendant to rich miners and thought that Dutchy could afford to lose. Her job was at stake, Mundy made that clear. She knew that in the West there were few things a young woman with morals could do. Fist fighting in the saloons was not a ladylike thing, but it kept her and she was never troubled by unwelcome attentions.
“Tell Olga to go back to the routine,” she said. “We’ll carry on with it.”
Mundy crossed the ring and looked at Olga. The blonde was gasping for breath and her face was marked. There was a nasty gleam in her eyes as she got up but she went into the routine once more. She was not so willing to make a serious fight of it since taking some of the punishment Eeney handed out.
Mark was watching every byplay and he saw the change in the way the two women went at it. Once more they were pulling their punches and although the fight looked just as rough he could tell there was little damage being done. Three rounds of this play acting followed and Eeney went into a routine long rehearsed. Olga sent a punch that looked as if it was meant, right into Eeney’s stomach. The German girl gasped and doubled over in a realistic manner. Olga interlaced her fingers, got her cupped hands under Eeney’s chin and heaved. Eeney went backwards as if out of control, hit the ropes and fell right over, out of the ring. She landed and by a chance was at Mark Counter’s feet. He bent and lifted her lip in his arms, putting her back on the apron of the ring.
“Ma’am, if you lose this fight ole Dutchy’s going to lose everything he’s got.”
Eeney, eyes closed and face twisted as if in pain, heard the soft spoken words and opened one eye. She looked at the handsome face and knew this Texas man knew what was happening. She also knew he was not lying to her. Anger flooded her as she realised that she was being made a fool of by Mundy.
According to the arrangement for that part of the fight she should stagger out and Olga would finish her off. Her seconds worked on her, they could feel her trembling and breathing hard. Time was called; Olga came out with confidence to get the shock of her life. Eeney came forward and smashed a punch at the side of her jaw which knocked her into the ropes in a heap. She hung there, half in and half out of the ring, tangled and helpless. Eeney came at her and Mundy yelled, catching the German girl’s arm. Eeney turned and to the crowd’s delight her fist smashed into the man’s face and knocked him staggering. The other girls of the troupe ran forward catching Eeney and dragging her back to her corner. Then Olga’s seconds helped her back and sat her down. A man from the crowd gave Olga a glass of whisky and she drank, or appeared to drink it just before she came out for the next round.
Eeney advanced with fists raised. She watched Olga staggering and made a bad mistake. Thinking Olga was hurt Eeney relaxed, then the blonde spat the whisky from her mouth into Eeney’s face. The German girl was blinded for an instant and the whisky stung her eyes. Unable to see, Eeney was at Olga’s mercy. A fist smashed into her stomach brutally, doubling her up. Her nose felt as if it suddenly burst into flames as Olga’s knee came up to slam into it. Blinded and dazed Eeney came erect with blood rushing from her nose. Olga hit her, smashing a left to Eeney’s face and knocking her into the ropes. Eeney was helpless and if Olga had been less vindictive the fight would have been over. Instead of trying to finish Eeney off the Russian girl smashed home blows to hurt her rather than knock her out.
Pain flooded over Eeney as the fists battered at her; she was helpless to do anything as the
ropes rocked her into the blows. Then she felt herself falling and landed on the canvas. Her seconds were fast off the mark, crossing the ring to get to her, Olga was wild with rage, she tried to stamp on Eeney but was forced back by the seconds. She went to her corner and watched Eeney carried back to her own and laid on the stool. From the look of things Eeney would not be any more danger to her. Olga grinned savagely, hoping Eeney could come back to take more of a beating.
Mark Counter watched the two girls who were seconding Eeney. They did not appear to be doing much to help her. “Come on, Dutchy,” he said and climbed on to the side of the ring.
Taking the cloth from one of the girls Mark dipped it into the water bucket she had brought with her. He wiped the blood from Eeney’s face, she opened her eyes and looked at him, gasping for breath.
“Here, liebchen.” Dutchy was by Mark’s side and holding a glass of schnapps to her lips. “Drink some of this, it will give you strength.”
Eeney sipped at the schnapps and coughed, gagging on the bite of it. Mark leaned closely and whispered some advice to her, she listened to him realising he knew what he was talking about.
For all of that Eeney did not appear to be in any shape to carry on the fight. Her eyes were half closed and she staggered weakly. Olga came to meet her with a smirk of delight on her face. This was going to be good; the German cow would wish she was never born.
Halting in front of Eeney the blonde reached out and shoved her head, tilting the chin back. Then Olga struck, her fist lashing up. To miss, Eeney’s head jerked back allowing the fist to drive up in front of her face. Olga was wide open, stomach exposed to the brutal blow which Eeney swung with every ounce of her strength. The fist appeared to sink into Olga’s plump stomach almost to the wrist. The blonde croaked in agony as she doubled over, her face an ashen grey green. She clutched at her stomach in agony, pain almost too much for her to bear knifing through her. The pain was short lived. Eeney’s other fist came up, swinging with all the German girl had behind it. The smack of the blow sounded even above the cheers of the crowd. Olga’s head snapped back, she came erect and over on to her back. The thud of her landing rocked the ring but she did not feel it. Olga was beyond feeling anything, and would be for some time to come.
There was no hope of Olga toeing the line at the end of the minute and Mundy, glowering at the exhausted Eeney announced her as winner and new champion. The crowd roared their approval. Dutchy ducked between the ropes and helped Eeney back to her corner, then he looked around for the gambler.
The other men were still at the table but the chair the gambler had occupied was empty; the man was gone.
CHAPTER NINE
Dutchy’s Gain
RAGE AND IMPOTENCE filled Dutchy as he looked at the empty seat. His money, the vital money for the mine was gone. He had made the bet without thinking of what it could mean if he lost. Now he was the winner and his dreams could be made real. The German girl was the reason he had won, she had taken a beating and come through for him. For what? He did not know, all he knew was his money was gone.
The gambler watched the fight at first without any worry for he knew the result was fixed in advance. Then as Eeney and Olga fought on he guessed something was wrong. He knew for certain when Bearcat Annie, just before the end of the fight went into her office.
Pushing his chair back the gambler rose and walked towards the door of the saloon. Every eye was on the fight and apart from a few yells for him to keep his head down he was not bothered. He reached the door and pushed it open as the yells of the crowd told him the fight was over. It was time he was far from there, hiding until things blew over. With this in mind he started to go through the doors and into the street. The night was dark out there and a fair crowd moved around. Once among them he would be safe.
A hand gripped the gambler’s collar and dragged him backwards, something sharp pricking through his coat and to his spine. A voice, low, mocking and deadly came to his ears.
“You got a real poor sense of direction, friend. Dutchy’s that ways.”
The gambler was swung against the wall and found a slim, dark deadly-looking young man facing him. A man who held a razor sharp bowie knife which said ‘no’ to any arguments. The gambler felt very scared; welshing on a bet was a serious thing in the rough frontier towns. The man who did it was lucky if he did not get hung by an irate crowd. That was why the Ysabel Kid took no chances when stopping the gambler and relieved him of the Derringer in his waistband.
The Ysabel Kid was as interested in the fight as any man in the saloon, but he was never the sort to allow his full attention to settle on one thing. He was alert and on the lookout for he knew Bearcat Annie did not like Dusty, whatever she said to the contrary. The Kid’s Commanche blood gave him the primitive savage’s ability to sense a person’s real feelings. He knew they were in the country of the enemy and although he seemed to be at ease he was alert and watchful. He saw the gambler get up to leave and guessed what was planned, so unseen by the others he rose and followed.
“All right, back to Dutchy,” the Kid said gently. “Move or I’ll drop you where you stand.”
The gambler turned and walked back towards the table like a sick beagle coming to heel. He knew the Ysabel Kid was not making an idle threat, he also knew the Kid would be praised by any jury in the West for dropping a welsher.
Dutchy was out of the ring by now, Dusty Fog and his deputies on their feet, all knowing what had happened. There was anger in each pair of eyes and the gambling man felt scared at the prospect of trouble.
“I’ll have my money, please.” Dutchy said, looking relieved.
“I haven’t enough to pay.” The words came unwillingly from the man.
“Send one of your pards to collect it from Bearcat Annie,” Dusty suggested; “You’re one of the house’s men.”
Clint Fang and several gunhung man started to move in. “Never saw him afore,” Fang stated.
“You said he was,” Dutchy snapped.
“I mistook him for one of our men.”
“You’re a liar, Fang!”
Fang’s face paled in sudden rage as he looked at the small man who stood in front of him. To call a man a liar in the West was just about the worst insult one could manage. It was never employed unless the speaker was full and ready to back that word with lead.
Talk in the saloon died away as with that instinct for danger common to a Western crowd everyone in the room realised something was wrong. All eyes were on the group of men standing by the side of the ring. Eeney Haufman, sitting on her stool, left there by the other members of the troupe, looked down. She was lonely, afraid and hurt, her body aching from the brutal fight. Even the man who caused her to be fired was ignoring her.
Dusty Fog watched Fang, knowing the man was going to make a move this time. It was not Fang who was the danger in this situation but the men at his back. They might elect to fight and a crowded saloon was no place for a gun battle. Whatever play was made the innocent bystanders must not be placed in danger.
Down lashed Fang’s hand towards his gun; he almost made it. Dusty’s Fog’s left hand crossed in a sight-defying move, bringing the Army Colt up and lashing it across Fang’s face knocking him backwards. Dusty followed the man up, his gun barrel smashing over and down on to Fang’s head, pistol-whipping him to the ground. The move was done so fast that Fang’s men were taken by surprise and none of them were set. Dusty’s deputies were not expecting so sudden a move either; the difference was that two of them knew him. Mark and the Ysabel Kid saw the signs and knew just how Dusty would react. Consequently as soon as Dusty made his move they took action, guns coming out and covering Fang’s backers.
“What’s it all about, Marshal?” a miner asked.
“Dutchy made a bet with this man, now he can’t pay off,” Dusty answered and listened to the angry rumble from the crowd before going on. “He’s a house man, or says he is.”
The crowd were not at all unanimous in their idea of how to h
andle the gambler. Some were in favour of lynching, others, less harsh, wanted a coat of tar and feathers, others to ride the welshing gambler out of town on a rail. The gambler was aware he was due for one or other and panicked.
“I’m a house man,” he howled, backing towards the lawmen. “Go ask Bearcat, she took me on.”
“Where’s Bearcat!” the shout went up.
Bearcat Annie listened to all the noise, sitting in her office and telling Mundy just what she thought of him; that his engagement was cancelled and that he would not get paid for his trouble. She could guess what was going to happen and decided to leave the gambler to face the music. Then she thought of something. The man was no hero, he would talk if his skin was endangered. The crowd might not take any notice of him but she knew Dusty Fog would listen and investigate. That meant the young Texan would see Mundy and discover the result of the fight was rigged in advance. Dusty was also smart enough to add up two and two to get an answer like an attempt to stop Dutchy investigating his theory.
Getting to her feet she left the room, warning Mundy to stay where he was. She crossed the room, the crowd parting to allow her to pass. Halting at the group by the table, looking innocently at Dusty Fog, she asked, “What’s the trouble?”
“Fang told us this hombre was a house gambler,” Dusty answered, looking just as innocent. “So Dutchy laid down four thousand the German girl won the fight. Now the gambler says he can’t pay and Fang allows he don’t work here.”
“Does he, Bearcat?” a man asked. “We don’t want to rough up a man if it ain’t needed. Is he one of your’n?”
“He works for me all right. But I said there wasn’t to be any betting on the fight. He shouldn’t have taken the money.”
There was a growl of anger at this, the crowd knew the house gamblers were taking bets all the time the fight was in progress. Bearcat Annie listened to the rumble and read the signs right. If she did not call the play correctly she was going to have a riot on her hands.
