Calamity Jane 6: The Hide and Horn Saloon (A Calamity Jane Western)

by J. T. Edson

  ‘You know what I mean all right, god damn it!’ Wanda snapped, her never too stable temper rising.

  ‘If you mean, did the loss take place at the venue and in the fashion I mentioned,’ the attorney answered, also giving no indication of knowing there was anybody other than himself and the red head in the office, ‘Not having been present when these events took place, I cannot, from personal observation, say whether they did, or did not. However, I have examined all the documents pertaining to the transfer of ownership and am satisfied they are valid.’

  ‘Suppose I say that I aim to have somebody else take a look at them?’ Wanda challenged, her manner suggesting she expected to meet with a refusal.

  ‘That is your prerogative, Mrs. Higgins, which neither I nor my client would wish to deny you the right to exercise,’ Scrope answered. ‘Naturally, however, we would not be prepared to allow you to take them out of my custody.’

  ‘Naturally!’ the red head sniffed. ‘But you’ll be willing to let me have, say Counselor Grimsdyke from Garnett, look them over?’

  ‘As I said, that is your prerogative and we would not think of denying it,’ the attorney confirmed. ‘However, I feel I should warn you that, in my opinion, you will merely be wasting your time and money by doing so. All the documents are attested to by men of unimpeachable honesty and integrity, with whom I am personally acquainted to the extent that I know their signatures and seals.’

  ‘That’s as maybe!’ Wanda said, her manner offensive, as the feeling she was being outmaneuvered grew. ‘But Maxie was a damned good poker player and I can’t believe anybody, especially a woman, would get him to lose so heavily he’d have to use the saloon to pay her off.’

  ‘Can’t believe,’ Madam put in, responding to the glance she received from Scrope and interpreting it correctly. ‘Or won’t?’

  ‘My husband was a damned good poker player—!’ the red head began.

  ‘He wasn’t better than fair, at best, and I reckon you know that as well as I found out,’ the blonde corrected. ‘And, which being, he was way out of his class when he decided to sit in on the Big One.’

  ‘And you were in a class to sit in on it?’

  ‘I came out winning, which sort of makes it look like I was.’

  ‘There’s another possibility!’

  ‘Do tell.’

  ‘I’ve heard about women being used to sucker a feller into a game when it was knowed he wasn’t anywhere near good enough to play in it.’

  ‘And you reckon that’s what happened to Mr. Higgins?’

  ‘I’m not saying it was!’ Wanda stated, deciding to resist the temptation to make a direct accusation of complicity. The Big One at the Silver Bell Saloon had a well-deserved reputation for the strict honesty with which it was operated. ‘Only, when a feller’s alone on vacation, he gets to feeling lonely and’s fair game for getting suckered into things by a woman!’

  ‘A married man doesn’t often go off on a vacation alone,’ Madam countered, seeming to be growing calmer the more heated the red head was showing signs of becoming. ‘And, every time I hear a wife saying something like that, it’s most always because she’s trying to make folks believe it wasn’t her fault that he went off alone for his vacation. Especially should he get suckered into something by another woman.’

  ‘Why you—!’ Wanda spat out, rising suddenly and sending her chair skidding behind her. Then, making a clearly visible effort to keep at least some semblance of control over her temper, she went on viciously, ‘If I wasn’t a lady, I’d ram that god-damned lie down your throat!’

  ‘Well now, it can’t be said I’ve ever even pretended to be a lady,’ the blonde replied, remaining seated and, although ready to take whatever measures might be required to defend herself if attacked, looking completely unmoved by the rage being directed her way. ‘But any time you want to try and ram anything down my throat, just say the word and we’ll go off some place, only the two of us, so you can make a stab at doing it!’

  For a few seconds, which seemed to be extending for a much greater period to the fascinated and, for once, speechless attorney, Wanda stood quivering with a fury almost too savage to withhold!

  Thinking of the preparations she had been making to avenge herself upon the saloon girl who had come to be on most intimate terms with her husband, more because her ego was hurt by the thought that he preferred somebody else than out of any affection for him, the red head was tempted to accept the challenge. Before she could do so, aroused by the remembrance of how Moses Stern had fared when in contention against the blonde, a nagging uncertainty began to assail her. She had discounted his claim that he had been attacked when he was not looking, and she realized that, for him to have been overcome in such a fashion as he had described, implied considerable strength and skill. Therefore, having no desire to chance suffering a defeat, she found herself growing disinclined to take up the gauntlet as she was no longer satisfied the odds would be in her favor.

  ‘Surely you don’t expect me to come down to your level?’ Wanda gritted out as she reached her decision. She allowed her clenched hands to sink to her sides.

  ‘It was your idea to start ramming what you reckon to be lies down my throat,’ Madam replied, having noticed how the other woman had adopted fists instead of crooking fingers ready to grab hair or start scratching as was more generally the feminine tactics under such conditions. ‘I was only telling you how I felt about it. What you reckon you should do is up to you.’

  ‘I can see there’s no point in me staying here any longer!’ the red head informed the attorney, looking at him with an intensity which was clearly meant to exclude the blonde. ‘You’ll be hearing from Counselor Grimsdyke either Thursday or Friday, depending on how soon I can get hold of him.’

  ‘As you wish!’ Scrope assented, not without relief as he had been expecting the meeting to erupt into physical violence between the two women.

  ‘How soon does she want to have me thrown out of the house?’ Wanda went on, still refraining with an effort from so much as glancing at the person to whom she was referring.

  ‘What house is that?’ Madam could not prevent herself from inquiring, despite having decided it might be advisable to allow the lawyer to conclude the interview.

  ‘My home!’ the red head explained, unable to keep her eyes from the other woman any longer. ‘Or didn’t my husband tell you he was gambling that away along with the saloon?’

  ‘He didn’t,’ the blonde answered and darted a puzzled look at Scrope. ‘All our bet covered was the Hide and Horn Saloon. There wasn’t any mention of a house.’

  ‘It is part of his property, though,’ the attorney pointed out and hoped the antagonism which he sensed Madam was feeling towards the red head would not prevent her from making an offer that he would have advised, as a means of avoiding criticism when the news was spread, if he had been given the opportunity earlier.

  ‘Not as far as I’m concerned,’ the blonde declared, deciding just as the lawyer had hoped she would, even without needing his prompting. ‘All I won was the saloon. No house came into the bet and I don’t want any part of it.’

  ‘And I’ll be “somethinged” before I’ll accept charity from the likes of you!’ Wanda claimed, once again realizing she was being out-maneuvered. By announcing she was to be deprived of her home as well as the lucrative business, with which her husband had been compelled to part after being cajoled into a game of poker against players of far greater skill, she had hoped to enlist the sympathy of at least some of the local community. Trying to salvage something from the scheme, she went on in tones of bitterness, ‘So I’ll be out of my home as quickly as possible.’

  ‘Whether you go, or stay, is entirely up to you and none of my never-mind,’ Madam asserted, guessing the motivation behind the insistence to quit the premises. ‘Counselor Scrope here will let you have the deeds for it and then you can do what you like.’

  ‘Shall I have my daughter drop them around when they’re prepared,
Mrs. Higgins?’ the attorney inquired, showing none of the delight he was feeling over the way in which the blonde had treated the issue. ‘I can have them ready and delivered by sundown.’

  ‘You’ll have to send them to Counselor Grimsdyke in Garnett,’ the red head instructed, making the pronouncement as if every word was leaving a very bad taste in her mouth. ‘Because, seeing’s how I wouldn’t live in any “mother-something” house she reckons she has the right to give me, I’ll be moving there this afternoon.’

  ‘Very well,’ Scrope assented. ‘However, should you ever ask to come and see me in the future, I’d be greatly obliged if you would clean up your language.’

  ‘Why?’ Wanda hissed. ‘Are you scared it might offend her?’

  ‘Girlie,’ Madam said, before the attorney could reply. ‘I’ve heard more bad language and, in the right time and place, can put tongue to more profanity than you’ve heard even in the kind of places you’ve come from. There’s only one thing stopping me proving it right now. This isn’t the time and place, with a young woman able to hear it next door.’

  ‘Go to hell, both of you!’ the red head spat out and turned to leave with less assumed majesty than she had arrived.

  ‘I’d say that’s what I’ve heard called “leaving in high dudgeon”,’ the blonde commented, after the main entrance to the attorney’s place of business was closed with a bang. ‘Danged if I haven’t always wanted to see it done.’

  ‘She’s not the nicest woman I’ve ever come across,’ Scrope remarked. ‘And there’ll be more than me delighted to see the back of her around town.’

  ‘You reckon she’ll leave then?’ Madam asked.

  ‘She’ll go all right,’ the attorney assessed. ‘From what I know of her, she’d die rather than stay here with folks knowing that it’s only because you didn’t take the house as well as the saloon. For all that, I’d go very carefully. Unless I’m mistaken, you haven’t seen the last of her. Or, at least, she won’t give up trying to get back the saloon as easily as it seems she is doing.’

  ‘You mean she reckons that lawyer of hers down to Garnett might be able to do something about it?’ the blonde suggested.

  ‘All he can tell her is what I’ve already said; the whole affair was done legally and above board,’ Scrope replied. ‘But I can’t see her being willing to accept its gone because of that.’

  ‘You mean she might decide to come and try to take it back?’ Madam asked.

  ‘Not personally,’ the attorney answered. ‘But you can bet she’ll be willing to try some other way of doing it.’

  Eleven –All Sociable and Friendly

  ‘Take that!’ Wanda Higgins ejaculated savagely thinking of Madam Bulldog while doing so. Then she went on, in similar snorting gasps, ‘And that! And that!’

  Before starting to speak, the beautiful and curvaceous red head had been moving lightly on the balls of her bare feet with something like dancing steps, except they were not for such an innocuous purpose. The first two words were in accompaniment to her left hand, closed into a fist, being driven forward. Encased in a special type of black leather glove, it impacted firmly against the bosom region of a large sack—packed solidly with straw and forming the shape of a well-endowed feminine figure—which was suspended from the ceiling of a bedroom converted into a simply equipped gymnasium.

  Delivered skillfully and with evidence of its not inconsiderable power, the blow was followed by an equally well executed right hook up into the solar plexus region of her now moving target and a left cross swing to the side of the ‘head’. They were sent in rapid succession, each being punctuated by an identical exclamation. Nor did this bring the efforts of the woman to an end. Bobbing, ducking, weaving her upper body and making occasional blocking motions with alternate arms, she continued to attack the specially made punching bag she was circling with an energy and vigor which would have surprised most of those who had become acquainted with her generally slothful nature.

  The uncharacteristic behavior of the red head had come about, on this occasion, as a result of her most unsatisfactory interview with the new owner of the Hide and Horn Saloon and Aloysius P. Scrope!

  Having swept out of the attorney’s offices in an even worse temper than she had risen with that morning, Wanda had hurried back to the house, by the most direct route, so as to avoid meeting anybody who might wish to talk about the situation in which she found herself. Suffering from no illusions with regards to her popularity where the majority of the population were concerned, she had felt sure any commiserations would be far from sincere. Finding the young reporter for the Tennyson Times waiting on the front porch, she had refused to comment about the loss of the saloon and her plans for the future. However, as she had realized there might soon be a need for sympathetic comments on its pages, she had refrained from dismissing him with the torrent of profanity which had come close to bursting around his head, and had promised she would supply all the requisite information when less busy.

  Going into the sitting-room, the red head had been only slightly more communicative with Leo Wallace and Moses Stern. They had had to be content with being told that the meeting with the blonde and Scrope—both of whom were described in profanely insulting terms—had produced nothing beyond what they had anticipated. Then, without offering any reason, she had told her hulking brother to fetch Barry Norman and Herbert Lang, but to ensure they were not seen entering the house. Asked how quickly she wanted them to come, she had replied there was no hurry as she intended to go and “work out” in the bedroom. Knowing what was implied by this, the deposed head bouncer had set off without further questions, and the gambler had also considered it inadvisable to attempt to satisfy his curiosity.

  Being all too aware of the lecherous nature of her half-brother, having been subjected to less than filial attentions from him in the past, Wanda had locked the door and left the key in its hole before starting to disrobe for her ‘work out’. She would not have been in the least embarrassed by the thought of him watching her through the aperture, despite being reduced to a state of near nudity, but she took a perverse delight in preventing him from having the pleasure of doing so. Then, wearing only brief—for that day and age—bright red satin drawers trimmed by frilly black lace, she had donned a pair of four ounce padded gloves such as were used in the kind of scientific boxing which was fast replacing the old style of crude and, at best, semi-skillful bare knuckle pugilism.

  Shortly after starting to carry out her unconventional activity, the red head had discovered that the exercise helped her to shake off a state of anger more economically than—as had frequently been her habit in the past—smashing furniture and crockery. Furthermore, she had found it helped her to think more clearly about whatever problem was causing the bad temper. With these motives in mind, she had set about relieving the stress of her pent up emotions by battering at the punching bag which had been specially made to meet her requirements.

  Regardless of trying to decide what might be done to regain control of the lucrative lost business, Wanda was forcing herself to remember the lessons received from a professional boxing trainer found for her by County Sheriff Lloyd Bowman—one of the very few people let into her secret—on hearing of her intention to take revenge upon Viola Grant. There was, however, one major difference to her efforts. While concentrating upon the coordination of footwork, defensive tactics and throwing punches with accuracy, all her strength and precision, her hatred was now diverted to the buxom blonde who had humiliated and made her back down in front of the attorney.

  After about two minutes of the strenuous activity, a knock on the door caused the freely perspiring red head to lower her hands and move away from the punching bag. Breathing heavily, she pulled off the gloves by inserting each in turn between her thighs. With this done, she collected and donned a more substantial robe than that worn in the morning. Then she opened the door and glowered at the two men standing outside.

  ‘Well?’ Wanda asked, drawing malicious sati
sfaction from the disappointment on Wallace’s face when he saw that she had concealed herself from neck level before appearing.

  ‘The fellers’re downstairs, Wan’!’ Stern announced, as if collecting and delivering the pair of hard-cases was a feat requiring considerable skill.

  ‘Say I’ll be down to see them in a few minutes,’ the woman commanded. ‘Then go and tell Josh Gilmore I want to see him and, after you’ve done that, fetch the horses from the livery barn and hitch up my surrey.’

  ‘Are you figuring to go and meet Lloyd Bowman on the trail, Wan’?’ Wallace inquired, remembering his half-sister had mentioned arranging for the sheriff to follow in case his assistance might be required to regain possession of the saloon.

  ‘We’ll meet him along the way,’ the red head answered. ‘But he’ll be coming here alone. We’re going to be staying down to Garnett for at least a few days.’

  ‘What’re we going there for?’ Stern asked.

  ‘We’re not going, just Leo and me,’ Wanda corrected, but with no trace of apology. ‘You’re staying in Tennyson.’

  ‘Doing what?’ the hulking man demanded.

  ‘Working for Gilmore,’ the red head explained. ‘Or so everybody’ll think. What you’ll really be doing is keeping an eye on things around here and letting us know what’s doing.’

  ‘Aw hell!’ Stern protested. ‘I don’t need to go to work for Gilmore to do that!’

  ‘How the “something” do you expect to do it? By hanging around the front door of the Hide or listening outside the office?’ Wanda demanded, her manner viciously sarcastic. ‘You have to have a reason for staying on, seeing Leo and I’ll have spread the word we’ve gone and don’t aim to come back.’

  ‘Yeah – but…!’ the hulking man began.

  ‘Don’t worry!’ the red head interrupted, all too aware of her brother’s disinclination to expend physical effort. ‘You won’t be expected to do too much work, if he’ll go along with what I’ve got in mind.’