by J. T. Edson
With his Remington reloaded, he circled the dogs and quivering shape of the bear to reach his rifle. Typical of the man, Scobie checked on the cause of the misfire before attempting to approach the bear. He found the trouble to be caused by a faulty primer in the cartridge, something which could only be detected by squeezing the trigger. There could hardly have been a worse time for such a mishap. If the pack had failed to impede the bear’s charge, there would be no need for Pauline to fear that she might become entangled with a footloose hound dog man.
‘All right, you bunch,’ he called to the pack as they worried at the bear’s motionless body. ‘Get out of it. Happen you spoil that hide, Pauline’ll fix your wagon but g—’
The words chopped off abruptly as he heard the distant crackle of revolver then rifle shots. Having spent most of his life in the open range country, Scobie possessed an inborn sense of direction. Anxiety gnawed at him as he ran towards the waiting zebra dun, for he knew that the shooting came from where he had left the girl.
Fifteen – Miss Loxton’s Profession
While listening to the sound of the hounds growing farther away, Pauline brought the feed bowls to the rear of the wagon ready for when she began preparing the dogs’ food. Then she heard the sound of approaching hooves, squeak of leather and rumble of turning wheels. Reaching for the carbine, she looked up at the top of the fold. A buckboard driven by a smartly-dressed, beautiful woman came into view and started down the slope in Pauline’s direction.
If there had been a man accompanying the buckboard, Pauline would have kept the carbine in her hands. Seeing only the woman, she relaxed, set the carbine back on the bed of the wagon and waited to see what brought the other girl out on the range without an escort.
A feeling of satisfaction ran through Norah Loxton as she brought the buckboard to a halt. After a long search, she had found the girl Schuster wanted to kill and who might hold the key to the big Cattlemen’s Trust bank robbery. More to the point, she found Pauline Pitt alone and the diminishing sound of the hounds meant that Scobie Dale would not be returning for some time. Having made better time than Scobie, the girl’s party came into sight just in time to see him ride from the hollow and head up the rim. On hearing from Laverick what that meant, Norah ordered the men to stay put while she went in and captured the girl. Having noticed the quick way in which the small girl picked up the Winchester carbine, and her competent handling of it, Norah knew she called the play right. Seeing a party of people coming, Pauline would either run or fight; most probably fight, and the sound of shooting might reach the hound dog man’s ears.
‘Howdy,’ Pauline greeted.
‘Hello,’ Norah answered. ‘Are you alone, too,’
‘My man’s just gone out after that stock-killing grizzly, Pauline replied. ‘Light down and rest your feet. I’ll be making coffee as soon as I light a fire.’
‘Thank you,’ Norah said, swinging from the buggy and walking towards Pauline.
Expecting to have to charm away Scobie Dale’s suspicions, Norah had let her hair down and left her jacket in the rear of the buckboard. Her blouse and skirt might be decorous, yet she gave them the appearance of being as revealing and eye-catching as any saloon girl’s dress.
‘Are you out with friends?’ Pauline inquired.
‘Oh no. I’m just on my way to visit with my aunt. Don’t let me stop you working.’
Pauline started to turn towards the wagon, as if meaning to carry on with her work. However, she watched her visitor out of the corner of her eye and saw Norah reach for something concealed in the skirt’s waistband.
Under normal conditions, Pauline would have thought nothing of Norah’s arrival, or the movement. Pauline had not lived normally since witnessing Thorpe commit murder. Nor were conditions normal around Desborough. No woman would make an unescorted journey through an area where a grizzly bear reputed to be a man-eater roamed. So the little blonde stayed on the alert and did not hesitate when she saw Norah begin to draw a Remington Double Derringer from its place of concealment. Spinning around, Pauline flung herself forward and caught Norah’s wrist before the Derringer could come into line. Jerking at the trapped wrist, Pauline pivoted as she had in childhood scuffles and rammed her buttocks against Norah’s body then levered the big girl over. Norah gave a squeal of surprise as her feet left the ground. Letting the Derringer fall, she landed rump first and twisted around to see the little blonde bending to pick up her gun.
Fury filled Norah and she lunged forward, her hands reaching for the Derringer. Pauline saw that the other girl might reach it and kicked it aside. Then she jumped clear of Norah’s grabbing hands. Before Pauline could decide on whether to make another try for the Derringer or dash to the wagon and the carbine, Norah rose and faced her.
Before going into her chosen profession, Norah had attended a select college for women and belonged to a rabidly feminist group. Among other things, her faction learned self-defense and indulged in boxing matches as a further proof that they could do anything men could. Having achieved some success in the ring against her friends, she expected no trouble in handling the smaller, lighter, untrained girl.
‘All right!’ she hissed, cocking her fists in the approved manner. ‘I’ll—’
Unfortunately for Norah’s plan, Pauline had never even seen a boxing match and knew nothing of the noble art. What the little blonde did know very well was how to take care of herself in a rough-house, all-in brawl. One of a large, mixed family, she learned to defend herself and working in saloons did nothing to make her forget her lessons.
Ducking her head, Pauline charged and butted Norah’s body in a manner which would certainly have caused her immediate disqualification in a boxing ring. Norah gasped, went backwards, tripped and sat down. Then Pauline landed on top of her and bore her to the ground. In that moment, Norah learned the vast difference between a sparring session wearing well-padded boxing gloves and the wild, anything-goes fury of a real fight.
Instinct came to Norah’s rescue as Pauline sat astride her, grabbed two hands full of her hair. Twice the little blonde raised the head and slammed it on to the ground. A very effective tactic when used on the wooden floorboards of a saloon, the trick proved lacking on springy grass which cushioned the impact. While the blows hurt, they did not render Norah helpless. Arching her back, she gave a heave which rolled Pauline from her and brought her on top. Her fingers dug into the blonde’s short, curly mop of hair and tore at it, but before she could make use of her extra weight Pauline reversed their positions once more.
For several seconds the girls rolled over and over in a wild tangle of flailing arms and thrashing legs. They tore at hair, drove knees into flesh, rained blows wildly and indiscriminately. All the time their teeth chopped at flesh and squeals of almost animal fury burst from them. Norah’s blouse ripped away from her left shoulder under the blonde’s clawing hands.
Buttons popped from Pauline’s shirt and its tail crawled out of the waistband of the Levis.
Shrieking in rage and pain, Norah suddenly flung the lighter girl from her and came to her feet. Forcing down the animal rage, tinged with fear for she had the worst of the thrashing tangle due to Pauline’s greater experience, Norah made herself think. As Pauline came up and charged into the attack, Norah once more adopted her boxing stance. Stabbing out a left jab of classic correctness, Norah caught Pauline in the face. Give her full due, Norah had learned well and landed two more jabs with the left so fast that she rocked the little blonde backwards and brought blood trickling from her nose. Pauline squealed and tried to rush in close, only to be stopped again by the stabbing fists. Pain tore through her and tears half-blinded her, warning her that she must come to grips and quickly or be battered unconscious.
When Pauline tried, Norah hooked a right into her belly and caused her to bend over. Up whipped the big girl’s left under Pauline’s offered chin and the blonde measured her length on the ground. If Norah had followed up immediately, she could have ended the fight. Sha
ken by the fury of Pauline’s defense, Norah stood sucking in breaths of air and staring at the other girl. Then she advanced towards the sprawled-out shape.
‘All right, you little whore!’ Norah croaked. ‘Now we’ll—’
In the brief time, Pauline had recovered enough to see her danger. Waiting until Norah came close, she drove up her legs, slamming two bare feet into the other girl’s mid-section and hurling her backwards. Although winded, doubled over in agony and feeling ready to fetch up, Norah saw Pauline rise and knew why the blonde started to stagger towards the wagon. Ignoring the pain and nausea, forgetting boxing, Norah flung herself forward, locked her arms about Pauline’s waist and brought the little girl to the ground.
Once again the wild, thrashing tangle worked up to fever pitch. Then they came to their feet, clinging to each other’s hair with one hand, raining slaps and punches with the other, kicking at the other girl’s shins. Pain and exhaustion filled both girls. They no longer screamed, their breath coming in saw-rasping gasps broken only when an extra hard blow or kick caused a hoarse squeal of protest. Blood ran from each woman’s nose and their clothing had suffered. Pauline’s shirt hung outside her pants and tom from buttonholes to hem. Norah no longer had a blouse on and her skirt had ripped from bottom to waistband, exposing her shapely legs in their tattered, kneeless stockings, one of which trailed around the top of her high-buttoned shoes.
There still did not appear to be any sign of one or the other girl gaining any ascendancy, Pauline’s extra experience and desperation being offset by Norah having size and weight on her side.
Then Norah gave a surging shove which flung Pauline away from her. Pauline’s back crashed into the wagon and she hung against it half dazed. Stumbling forward, Norah bent Pauline over the wagon and drove blow after blow into the blonde’s face and upper body. Sick agony welled through Pauline, her fingers clawing at Norah’s body. Then the blonde tried to reach her attacker’s face, failed and her hand flopped back to touch one of the feed bowls. Desperately Pauline gripped the bowl and swung it round. The base of the bowl smashed into Norah’s face, powered by an arm driven in desperation. Norah reeled backwards. Stumbling towards the tottering Norah, Pauline used the last of her waning strength to smash the bowl once more on to the other girl’s head. Norah went down as if she had been pole-axed and the bowl fell from Pauline’s hands as she sank to her knees.
Sick with exhaustion, half-naked and barely able to breathe, Pauline remained on her knees. From what seemed a long way off she heard voices. Raising her head, she managed to focus her swollen eyes, the left half-closed already, on the trio of men who came towards her.
‘Yes sir,’ Elmhurt drawled. ‘Norah handled her real good.’
‘Sure was some whale of a fight,’ Laverick went on. ‘Reckon they’ll come taw when they’ve rested?’
‘Damn you!’ yelled Loxton. ‘Help me with my sister.’
‘You fired us back there when we wouldn’t let you come down and spoil the fun,’ Laverick reminded him. ‘So it looks like we got no call to take your orders.’
‘You – you don’t know what to do with the girl,’ Loxton said, dropping to his knees by Norah.
‘No,’ admitted Elmhurt, his eyes raking over Pauline’s bare torso. ‘But I could maybe get me some good ideas.’
Before Elmhurt could expand further on the matter, he heard the sound of hooves. A trio of riders; two white hard-cases and a filthy-looking Indian with a Winchester carbine gripped in his right hand, came down the slope. Dropping from their saddles, the trio walked towards Norah’s party.
‘Looks like you had some fuss here,’ Jack Sage remarked. ‘Must’ve been too busy watching them gals fighting to hear us coming up.’
‘So?’ asked Elmhurt.
‘We’ll have that little blonde gal, feller,’ Sage said.
‘Like he—’ Laverick began.
Joey Stinks held the carbine by the small of the butt, fingers through the loading lever and trigger-guard. Without troubling to put his left hand to the foregrip, he raised the carbine and fired. Lead ripped into Laverick’s body, spun him around and dropped him to the ground before he managed to get his gun clear. Even as Elmhurt grabbed for his revolver, Sage drew and sent a bullet into him. On his knees at his sister’s side, Loxton could not have moved fast enough to save his life had he been a fighting man. Not that such a minor consideration appeared to bother the third hard-case. Drawing his gun, he started to line it on the scared face of the kneeling dude.
‘Hold it!’ roared a voice from on the rim.
Not only Norah’s party had allowed themselves to become so interested that they failed to stay alert. With the end of the chase apparently in sight, Sage’s group failed to notice a pair of men who had followed on their tracks.
One of the last arrivals was Flax Fannon. The other equaled Flax’s height and looked even more powerfully built. Although expensive and cut in the fashion of a well-to-do rancher who still put in a full day’s work with his crew, the second man’s clothes were trail-dirty. Under a three-day stubble, his face was handsome, strong, commanding. Grey tinged his blond hair at the temples, yet he did not look old. Around his waist hung a good quality gunbelt, matched staghorn-handled Colt Artillery Model Peacemakers riding in fast-draw holsters, However, like Flax, the elder man put his faith at that time in a Winchester Centennial Model rifle.
‘Waco!’ spat Joey Stinks, recognizing the second of the newcomers, and started to raise the carbine.
No less keen-eyed, Waco identified the Indian and took no chances. He already held his rifle at the firing position and shot to kill. A flat-nosed .45 bullet driven by seventy-five grains of powder struck Joey Stinks between the eyes, burst out of the rear of his head and tumbled his lifeless body to the ground. Waco knew Joey Stinks’ record too well to take chances and so shot to kill.
Swinging his revolver away from Loxton, the third hardcase fired a shot at the two Texans under the misguided belief that a handgun could equal a rifle over a range of some forty-five yards. Flax’s Winchester cracked an answer and the man went down with a bullet in his chest.
Although badly wounded, Elmhurt managed to pull his gun and drive a bullet into Sage’s back as the hardcase swung to meet the more pressing menace on the slope. Sage staggered forward, sent a bullet into the ground and then fell forward on to his face.
When Scobie Dale came charging on to the scene, his dun lathered and the pack speeding along around him, he found his fears for Pauline’s safety justified but unnecessary. Waco had the situation well in hand. Already Flax tended to Pauline, Loxton looked to his sister and the U.S. marshal knelt at Elmhurt’s side, doing what he could for the man’s wound.
‘Pauline!’ Scobie yelled, leaping from his horse and running to where the girl sat with her back resting against the wagon’s rear off wheel.
‘Sc – Scobie—’ she gasped. ‘Oh, Scobie!’
‘She’s roughed up some,’ drawled Flax, bathing Pauline’s face with a sopping wet bandana, ‘but you should see the other gal.’
‘Yeah!’ Scobie growled, straightening up. ‘I reckon I should.’
‘Ease off there, Scobie!’ Waco ordered. ‘Pauline did more than enough to her. Come and lend me a hand.’
‘How’d you get here just right, Waco?’ asked Scobie as he helped the marshal with the bandaging of Elmhurt’s wound.
‘Flax and I met with Tex Rudbeck outside town,’ Waco explained. ‘Tex allowed to be taking a posse to look into Jervis Thorpe reporting that Kid Curry’s bunch are hiding out at the Dooley place. Tex told me where you’d gone and when we saw Joey Stinks here leaving town we decided to trail him along.’
‘I’m not sorry you did,’ Scobie stated, then nodded to the Loxtons. ‘How do they figure in this?’
‘I don’t know yet, but figure to learn,’ Waco replied.
Half an hour later Loxton gave the two lawmen and Scobie the full story, his sister still being in no condition to talk. During her time in college
Norah selected the fast-developing science of criminology as her choice for invading the field of male dominance, and made an extensive study. On graduating, she tried to gain entrance to some city’s police department. At that time the only female officers were police matrons, mostly used for jailers in charge of women prisoners, and no department considered changing their policy. The refusal did not deter Norah, although it infuriated her. Being wealthy, she decided to form her own private detective agency and forced her weak-willed brother to join her.
After some success in the East, Norah decided they would try their hand on the more lucrative Western range country. With a few more successes behind her, Norah, along with all regular law enforcement departments and private agencies, became interested in the big Cattlemen’s Trust Bank robbery. Shrewdly she connected the robbery to the news that Pauline must be found and killed. Hunting for Pauline, Norah believed that the little blonde could supply a clue to the robbery and might even know the men who pulled it. Norah knew that if she produced the lead which resulted in the capture of the recovery of the loot, she would receive much publicity and might even take away some of the trade which went to the Pinkerton and other rival agencies.
‘I hope to God that this has knocked some sense into her,’ Loxton finished, dropping his voice so that his sister would not hear. ‘Whether it has or not, I’m quitting and going back East.’
‘You’d best take her with you,’ Waco grunted. ‘We’ve enough private law out here now without you setting up at it.’
‘Now we know,’ Scobie said, watching Loxton return to his sister. ‘What’s next, Waco?’
