The Floating Outfit 25

by J. T. Edson

  One thing Freddie knew for certain. Unless she accepted Kate’s challenge, she would be finished in Mulrooney.

  In the Buffalo, Wally the head bartender stood in Kate’s room and watched his boss read the poster he had brought in.

  ‘Are you going through with it, Kate?’ he asked.

  ‘Has she left me any choice?’ Kate replied. ‘I’ll give her one thing though. She’s sport enough to say we’ll have the fight here, even if she has given all the profits away,’

  ‘Yeah, but—’

  ‘But what?’

  You’ll lick her, boss, that’s for sure—’

  You don’t sound too sure,’ Kate remarked.

  If he had told the truth, Wally was not too sure, Since his arrival in Mulrooney, and despite the feud, Wally had become attached to Vera, one of Freddie’s barmaids. Among other things he learned about the talented Miss Woods was how she licked Big Sarah in a fight and, according to Vera, showed considerable fist fighting skill to do so. Wally recalled hearing of women pugilists and had seen one bout between a pair of them. Kate might be a tough girl who could take care of herself in a rough-house bar-room brawl, but entering a ring would be a different matter and Wally figured that Miss Woods must expect to have an edge or she would not have selected such a method of settling their differences.

  Throwing a poster on the desk in the jail’s main office Mark Counter looked at Dusty Fog.

  ‘Do you reckon this’ll come off, Dusty?’

  ‘I can’t see either of them backing down. With any luck they’ll pound some sense into their fool heads and stop this feuding,’ Dusty replied. ‘Say, where did you get this?’

  ‘From outside the hotel. It’s only one of plenty and they’re attracting a heap of interest around town.’

  Just how much interest became apparent in the next couple of hours. The posters had been spread around town and at the various camps outside city limits. Three trail bosses rode in before eleven to ask if the fight was really on and the whole town buzzed with conjecture. Would the challenge be accepted? If so, who would win?

  The good ladies of the town clucked their tongues and shook their heads—possibly because the fight would take place where they could not see it. Of course it was for a good cause, but one hardly expected a for-real lady like Miss Freddie to indulge in such things.

  By noon the town had divided itself into two camps and the lawmen were forced to stop three separate fights between members of the two parties—the fights being caused by suggestions that either Freddie or Kate would not dare take up the challenge. When he was called to prevent Shad Birnbaum and Sherill, both members of the Town Council, fighting in the street, Dusty figured it was time somebody knew for sure if the challenge had been taken up. With that in mind, he headed for the Fair Lady and asked if he might see Miss Woods.

  ‘Are you going through with this, Freddie?’ he asked, lifting the poster from her bed after being admitted to her room.

  ‘Is Miss Gilgore?’ she countered.

  ‘I haven’t asked her yet.’

  ‘Tell her that I will be willing to drop the matter—if she makes a public announcement that she wants it that way.’

  ‘You know damned well that she won’t do that!’ Dusty barked.

  ‘Then it appears that the challenge is still on.’

  Much the same took place at the Buffalo, with Kate almost repeating Freddie’s words. Yet Dusty gained the impression that neither woman felt entirely happy about the fight. However, neither would be first to back down and so it appeared the fight must still be on.

  Dusty passed word around that the challenge had been accepted and the fight would definitely take place. To prevent further disturbances, he also warned that anybody making trouble would be slapped in jail for the night. Such was the eagerness to witness the battle that men leaned over backwards to avoid becoming involved in any trouble which might wind up with them in jail and unable to see it. Never could Dusty remember so quiet and peaceful a Saturday afternoon. Yet to him it seemed like the calm before the storm.

  Chapter Twelve

  A Drink Before Starting

  At a charge of a dollar per head as entrance fee, the Mulrooney Church Social Fund swelled its coffers to a good size; for by half past eight the Buffalo Saloon’s big bar-room was packed out with almost every man in town. Not only did Dongelon loan and have erected his newly purchased eastern-style ring, but he agreed to act as referee in the bout—which offered him a good view of the entire affair and guaranteed that he got in to see it.

  Dusty might have been concerned with who issued the challenge and had the posters put out, but he found himself requested to take charge of the entire affair. The request came from both Freddie and Kate, leaving everything in his hands. Always wishing to nip trouble in the bud, Dusty laid down two rules straight away: first that no liquor would be sold in the saloon; second that neither saloon’s girls would be allowed to witness the fight. Feelings ran high among the girls and Dusty knew that having them present might spark off a full-scale riot. Nor would Freddie’s girls stay away if Kate’s were permitted to attend. So Dusty ruled that neither saloon’s girls attended. In doing so he antagonized the entire female staff of two saloons, but hoped that the precaution would be worth it.

  There was considerable wagering at even money on the result of the fight, although most of it appeared to be done between individuals rather than with professional gamblers who always preferred to have an edge when betting on anything. Dusty noticed this as he noticed everything else, but did not worry over it. Way he figured things, the trouble would not come until after the fight and he had made arrangements for that.

  A considerable noise rose into the air, talk as bets were made or comments thrown around, laughter as somebody made a joke, shuffling and scraping of feet and chairs. Dusty kept his deputies with him at the main doors, all except Big Sarah who had the job of making sure that the Fair Lady girls stayed in their places and the Buffalo’s female staff remained at Dongelon’s. The noise drowned out any sound that might have come from the street and effectively prevented Dusty hearing certain noises which might have interested him had he heard them.

  At nine o’clock a brief, expectant hush fell over the room as Dongelon climbed on to the edge of the raised dais and ducked between the top and center of the three ropes which stretched from corner to corner around it.

  ‘Gentlemen!’ he called, waving down the noise. ‘Your attention, please. Tonight, we are privileged to witness a challenge bout of pugilism—’

  ‘Make it fast and bring on the gals!’ whooped a cowhand and a roar of agreement followed his words.

  Although Dongelon had thought out quite a speech, there was too much noise for him to finish it. Nor did the noise abate as Buffalo Kate walked from her office and along the narrow aisle leading to the ring. She wore a long cloak which covered her from her neck to her bare feet; and Wally followed carrying a bucket and bottle full of water and a couple of towels. On reaching the ring, Kate climbed up the steps and ducked between the ropes, walking to the corner Dongelon pointed out as being her own. There she removed her cloak and passed it to Wally. The crowd showed its appreciation for she wore a brief chemise that showed off a plump but shapely figure.

  Even as Kate removed her robe, Freddie entered the ring followed by Vera as her second. Freddie removed her cloak and various male eyes stuck out like organ-stops at what they saw. Under the cloak Freddie wore an outfit consisting of a pair of black tights and a candy-striped upper section that looked like a man’s sleeveless vest—although it was not a man’s figure inside the vest.

  After a moment the men forgot their admiration of Freddie’s magnificent body and started studying her as a contestant who either stood to win or lose them some money. While Kate looked a mite taller and some heavier, Freddie did not give the impression of being puny. Fact being, she looked like a tolerable strong gal and more than one member of the crowd recalled how she knocked cold a drunken railroad man with
one punch when he tried to paw her at the Fair Lady. One thing was for sure, everybody in the crowd figured, whichever way things went they were in for seeing a helluva fight.

  ‘How about a drink before you start, ladies?’ Wally asked.

  ‘Good idea,’ Kate replied for she had never felt more like taking a drink.

  ‘Certainly,’ Freddie agreed, feeling much the same way.

  Leaving the ring. Wally hurried back to the office and returned carrying a tray with three glasses of whisky on it. Vera took two of the glasses from him and passed them to Freddie and Kate while Dongelon collected the third.

  ‘Here’s to your health, while you still have it,’ Freddie said, raising her glass and smiling at Kate with more confidence than she felt.

  Grinning, Kate replied, ‘Here’s looking at you, while you can still see me.’

  Then both of them tossed off their drinks in a single gulp, much to the relief of two of the watching crowd. The glasses were removed from the ring and Dongelon handed Freddie and Kate two Indian-pennies each. They were to hold a coin in the palm of each hand, keeping the fist clenched and preventing the fight developing into a hair-yanking brawl. Quickly Dongelon told the girls the rules, for the crowd were growing rowdily restless and he wanted to start the fight.

  Freddie felt sleepy as she walked forward to toe the line painted across the center of the ring. However, she kept her fists up and as soon as she came into range cut loose with a left and a right that set Kate back on her heels. Following up the blows, Freddie walked into a punch thrown by Kate. It crashed against her cheek and sent her staggering back to the ropes. For a moment Freddie hung on the ropes. She felt puzzled as she shook her head. While the blow landed with a fair amount of power behind it, she should not feel so dizzy. For some reason Kate did not follow up her advantage. Instead of moving in and landing more blows, the blonde stood in the ring center and rocked her head from side to side as if to clear it.

  Giving a yawn, Freddie moved forward but although her brain knew what to do it failed to communicate the orders correctly to her hands, Closing with Kate, she swung a fist into the blonde’s ribs and felt a blow in her side, yet it lacked power. Drowsiness clouded over Freddie and she tried to shake it off, clinging to Kate. Instead of thrusting Freddie away, Kate let the coins drop from her hands and locked her arms around the other girl’s waist. Ominous growls and calls rose from the crowd and Dongelon tried to separate the girls. In a way he succeeded, for he got them apart. Then their legs buckled under them and they slid to the floor of the ring, rolling on to their backs and lying still.

  A sudden silence, brought about by surprise at the sight of both girls collapsing, dropped over the room. Outside sounded a dull, muffled boom; like when a hard-rock miner touched off an explosive charge underground. If the crowd had been maintaining their noise, the sound of the boom might have gone unnoticed. As it was Dusty heard, so did his deputies and their eyes turned to him.

  ‘That was down by the bank !’the Kid stated.

  ‘Let’s go!’ Dusty replied.

  Even as the five lawmen dashed from the saloon, a man yelled that the fight was a fake rigged by Freddie. Instantly one of Freddie’s supporters jumped up and swung a punch. Like ripples raised by a stone thrown into a lake, the brawl spread across the room as furious men deprived of what they hoped would be a damned good fight began to vent their annoyance on each other. Not only the cowhands and other workers were involved, but the upper-classes, including the banker and most of the town council became involved in the general brawl.

  In the ring Dongelon stared down at the two still shapes at his feet. Then he turned and glared at Wally for he had seen knock-out drops in action often enough to recognize their effects when he saw them. What Dongelon could not understand was why Wally slipped his boss the drops as well as dosing Freddie.

  ‘What happened?’ he growled as the bartender came to his side.

  ‘Me ’n’ Vera reckoned a draw’d maybe satisfy the bosses. We don’t want to see either of ’em run out of town,’ Wally replied.

  ‘Very noble!’ growled Dongelon, ducking as a chair flew through the air. ‘Now how do we get out of here?’

  Looking at the fighting mass of men around the ring. Wally grinned and replied, ‘I reckon we’re safer right here.’

  ‘Could be at that!’ Dongelon admitted, stepping to the ropes and laying his hand on a man’s face to shove him backwards as he tried to climb through the ropes.

  The battle raged on, with Dongelon, Wally and Vera holding back the fighters and preventing any entering the ring to disturb the rest of the two women who ought to have been indulging in a bout of pugilism but instead lay on their backs and slept like two innocent babes. Not even the crackle of gunfire from outside and along the street brought an end to the fight.

  Dusty and his men ran along the street and the big shape of his female deputy loomed up ahead of them. Coming forward, she pointed to the bank.

  You hear it, Dusty?’ she asked, dropping the formal ‘cap’n’ in her excitement and concern.

  ‘We’re on our way, Sarah-gal,’ Dusty replied.

  ‘How about that bunch at the saloon?’ she went on as a man came flying through one of the windows in a shower of glass.

  ‘Let ’em fight. The bank’s a whole sight more important right now.’

  Which, bitter as the thought might have been to Buffalo Kate as owner—had she been able to hear it—was the living truth. The bank held thousands of dollars; money to purchase cattle or buffalo hides and tongues from the men who brought them, the herd price left in safe-keeping by three trail bosses while they enjoyed the pleasures of Mulrooney, and the savings of most of the folks in town. If the contents of the bank’s safe were stolen, the result would be bankruptcy and ruin for most of the town.

  A grin crossed Sarah’s face as she took the point and a thought struck her.

  ‘Go get ’em boys!’ she whooped and dashed off in the direction of the Fair Lady, travelling at a fair speed considering her bulky build.

  Dusty and the deputies had more to occupy their minds than thinking about Sarah’s apparent desertion. If any of them thought about the matter at all, they put it down to her going to fetch a gun from the jail and not to cowardice.

  In this they were wrong. Big Sarah knew her limitations and usefulness as a deputy. Handling female miscreants was her work, getting tangled in gunfights had no part in her duties. While she could handle a shotgun with reasonable skill, she reckoned her limited talents would not be needed in that field; fact being that she could even get in her friend’s way at a time when they needed to be free agents if they hoped to stay alive. So she let the men handle men’s work and decided to make a stab at stopping the brawl at the Buffalo.

  There was one chance of her doing it. Mulrooney’s fire brigade, like most western towns, was manned by volunteers and most of the men were at the saloon. However, the two fire engines stood in their house and were of a pattern requiring only a limited knowledge to handle them. Sarah reckoned that she and the girls of the Fair Lady could haul one of the engines down and manage to make it work long enough for their purposes.

  Throwing open the batwing doors of the Fair Lady. Sarah looked in at the morose girls who sat around. Practically the full working strength of the saloon sat in the bar-room, more than enough to achieve Sarah’s purpose.

  ‘Miss Freddie’s in trouble!’ she yelled.

  Instantly the lethargy dropped from the girls and Babsy sprang to her feet. ‘Let’s do them Buffalo bitches!’ she screeched.

  ‘Hold it!’ Sarah bellowed. ‘It’s not them. There’s a riot at the Buffalo. We’re going to borrow a fire engine and damp ’em down a mite.’

  With eager squeals the girls dashed from the saloon, grateful for a chance to relieve their boredom, and went streaming off in the direction of the fire-house. The cracking of shots behind the jail slowed them, but Sarah urged them on, telling them that Cap’n Fog was handling things.

&nbs
p; Just as she led the girls towards the fire-house, Sarah remembered there were two engines in it. Leaving the other girls to go alone she headed for the Wooden Spoon and met the hostile stares of Kate’s girls who had come out to see what caused all the shouting and noise.

  ‘Your boss needs help!’ Sarah announced.

  ‘Come on, girls!’ Ginger yelled. ‘I knew we shouldn’t trust those—’

  ‘It’s not the Fair Lady girls, it’s a riot at the Buffalo,’ Sarah interrupted. ‘Fair Lady’s gone for a fire engine to help stop it.’

  Sarah relied on the ‘anything Fair Lady can do, we can do a whole heap better’ attitude of the Buffalo girls to gain her the required support and she proved correct.

  ‘Come on, girls!’ howled a big, buxom brunette, ‘let’s show them Fair Lady cows how Buffalo can move.’

  Two swarms of girls descended on the fire-house where the two hand-drawn fire-engines stood ready for use, big water tanks full and the wheels coated in antelope grease for easy rolling. All thoughts of settling their private differences by hand-scalpings had been forgotten, although the rivalry remained. Eager hands grabbed the towing handles of both engines, plump bare shoulders rested against the rear to add motive power by pushing. Sheer weight of numbers started the two engines running at almost the same instant; the Buffalo girls, having a shorter distance to run, arrived at the same moment as the Fair Lady’s group and both saloon contingents went to it with a will and eagerness to show the other who was best.

  Babsy grabbed hold of the speaking trumpet which hung on the side of the Fair Lady’s engine and without asking for permission appointed herself commander of her saloon’s machine. In a voice that was squeaky with excitement, she began to exhort her saloon to pull and show those flabby old hags next door what young ladies could do.