Running Irons (5 page)

“Got me a week’s furlough to come when I pull in from this lot,” Danny answered, meeting her challenge. “Happen you can lay hands on your crow-bait, we’ll run us a race.”

“You got a deal. Dobe Killem, which same being my boss, told me to wait in Austin for two weeks, grab some work if I could to keep me busy until he brings the rest of the bunch in.”

“So you’ll be in for a week with nothing to do,” drawled Danny, taking up his
sabino’s
reins. “Just like me.”

“Must be fate in it someplace.” Calamity answered, eyeing him with interest. “You got a steady gal?”

“Not steady. Always figgered a young lawman shouldn’t get too close or attached until he knows if he’s going to make the grade or not.”

“Which same’s as good an excuse as any.”

“Sure,” Danny agreed. “Now let’s get down there and tend to those four Mexicans, shall we?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Calamity answered.

On returning to the cabin, Danny attended to his horse. Then, with Calamity at his side, he returned to the front of the cabin and prepared to start the distasteful task of cleaning up.

“Get their tarps, Calam,” he ordered, “and bring one of their ropes.”

Normally Calamity might have objected to a new acquaintance, especially a young man, giving her orders. Yet she figured Danny knew what he was doing, and anyways she could always object if she decided he did not. Calamity went to each horse in turn and removed its tarpaulin-wrapped bundle from behind the saddle’s cantle. Unrolling the first bundle, she handed the tarp to Danny and, with an express of distaste on his face, he went to work. First spreading the tarp on the ground, Danny pulled Choya’s body into the center of it. Wrapping the body completely inside the tarp, Danny took the rope from Calamity and bound the bundle so the jolting of the wagon would not uncover its grisly contents. Next came a difficult and not too pleasant task, loading the body into the rear of Calamity’s wagon.

“I’ll lend you a hand,” the girl said her voice just a mite strained.

“
Gracias,
Calam. Take the feet, I’ll handle the head.”

Between them, Calamity and Danny lifted first one, then the remainder of the tarpaulin-wrapped shapes into the rear of the girl’s wagon, laying them side by side in the space at the back. With that done, the two of them cleaned up, as well as they could, the traces of the fighting. Calamity gathered up the shattered glass while Danny brought shovel-loads of dirt to cover the bloodstains. Finally they stood back and looked over their work.

“I took a bath when I arrived,” the girl remarked. “Damned if I don’t feel all dirty again.”

Danny put a hand to his bristle-covered chin. “And me. I sure hate to have whiskers growing on me. Say, is there any water inside?”

“I’ll boil some for you. Then while you’re shaving, I’ll go take a bath,” Calamity suggested. “And then I’ll cook us a meal.”

“Sounds like a real good notion,” Danny answered.

Opening his bedroll, Danny dug into his warbag and collected his shaving kit. Calamity poured him out some hot water and headed for the swimming hole while he stripped off his shirt to wash and shave. Having been hunting the
Comancheros
alone for the past three days, Danny had not found time to wash and shave, or even take off his
clothes. He felt a whole heap better with the growth of whiskers and some of the trail dirt removed from his hide. On Calamity’s return, Danny took a change of clothes and headed for the swimming hole. All in all, he both felt and looked a whole heap better on his return. Nor had Calamity wasted her time, but set to and cooked a real good meal for him.

“You cook just like Mark said,” he told Calamity after the meal, having been too hungry during it to waste time in talking. “Man gets tired of stream water and jerky.”

“Reckon he does,” she agreed then grinned. “You mean ole Mark said something nice about me?”

“Shucks, Mark always talks real high and respectful about you, Calam.”

“I just bet he does,” smiled the girl.

“There’s no chance of making Austin today,” Danny remarked, looking out of the window at the darkening range. “Happen we start at sun-up, we ought to reach it afore noon tomorrow.”

“That’s how I saw it,” agreed Calamity. “Let’s go tend the stock. I reckon we’ll leave the four
Comanchero
hosses here to pay for the damage I did to the window.”

Danny gave his assent and they went out to feed, water and bed down the horses. On their return, Calamity lit a lamp while Danny laid his saddle
carefully on its side by the wall and unpacked his bedroll.

“It’s going to be a mite chilly for whoever sleeps in here,” Calamity said, glancing at the shattered window.

“You take the bedroom then,” replied Danny, courteous to the core as became a Southern gentleman.

“Shuckens no. Let’s do it fair,” answered Calamity, taking a coin from her pocket and flipping it into the air. “Heads I have the bedroom, tails you get it. Dang it, Danny, it’s tails. We said best of three, didn’t we?”

“Why sure,” grinned Danny, taking the coin and flicking it up again. It landed on the table with a metallic clink.

“Three out of five, we said, didn’t we?” asked Calamity, looking at the exposed tails side.

Once more the coin sailed into the air. Shooting out a hand, Calamity caught the spinning disc of metal and brought it down to stand on its edge in a crack on the table top.

“Land-sakes a-mercy,” she said innocently. “It looks like we’re due for a stand-off.”

“What’ll we do in that case?” asked Danny, just as innocently.

“Didn’t Mark teach you nothing about—things?”

“You know, Calam, gal,” Danny drawled, blowing out the lamp. “He just might have done at that.”

Almost an hour later, just before she went to sleep, Calamity gave a grin. One thing was for sure. Dusty Fog’s kid brother could sure act like a man full grown.

S
ID
W
ATCHHORN EASED HIS ARM IN THE SLING,
glanced at the rider and wagon which entered the compound and then walked back into the office.

“Danny’s here, Cap’n,” he said.

“Alone?” asked Murat, seeing his chance of making the Caspar County investigation—and getting away from the tedium of office work—depart.

“Never thought he’d bring any of ’em in alive,” Sid answered. “Only he’s not alone. Got a right pretty lil gal along with him, driving a six-hoss Conestoga.”

Throwing a glance at Sid, the Ranger captain tried to read the tanned, leathery face for a hint that
his wounded man made a joke. He saw nothing, which did not entirely surprise him. However, Murat knew handling the ribbons of a
six
-horse Conestoga wagon took skill of a high degree. Coming to his feet, Murat walked from the office and looked in the direction of the approaching party.

“I told you so,” said Sid in doleful delight, “only you didn’t believe lil ole me.”

“Does anybody?” grunted Murat and walked to meet his other Ranger. “Howdy, Danny. We got a telegraph from Sandy up to Two Trees, said you’d gone on after Choya and his bunch.”

“Huh huh!” Danny answered.

“Catch ’em?”

The words came out more as a statement than a question. No Ranger worth his salt would leave the trail of the men who killed one of his partners and wounded another. Yet Murat could see no sign of the
Comanchero’s
horses. Then his eyes went to the wagon’s box, studying the various scars on its timber. Two of the bullet holes looked newly made.

“I caught ’em. They’re in the back of Calam’s wagon.”

Walking by his captain, Sid headed to the rear of the wagon and started to unfasten its canopy’s lashings. Calamity jumped down from the box and joined the Ranger at the rear.

“Let me lend you a hand,” she said. “You look like you need one.”

“Her husband come home early,” answered Sid.

“That’s allus the way,” Calamity commiserated.

“How many in there, ma’am?”

“Four, all there was. And happen you don’t want the other wing busting quit calling me ‘ma’am’.”

One of the young wranglers dashed up and took charge of Danny’s horse. It said much for Danny’s trust in the youngster that he allowed the
sabino’s
welfare to the boy’s hands. However, Danny knew he could rely on the youngster to care properly for the big horse and that he must give his report to his captain as quickly as possible.

“Let’s go into the office, Danny,” Murat suggested as the youngster led the
sabino
away.

Following Murat into the office, Danny took a seat at the desk. There was nothing fancy about the room in which the Rangers of Company “G” handled their paper-work and planned their campaigns against the criminal elements of Texas. Just a desk, its top scarred by spur-decorated boot heels and burned by innumerable cigar and cigarette butts, with a few papers sharing the top with the first edition of the famous “Bible Two,” the Texas Rangers’ list of wanted men that would be brought out each year and read by the sons of the star-in-the-circle far more than they ever studied the original book. Some half-a-dozen chairs stood against the walls, two more at the desk. A safe, its door open and shelves empty, graced one wall, a stove
facing it across the room. On either side of the door leading to the cells at the rear of the building were respectively a bulletin board containing wanted dodgers from all over the State, and a rack holding some dozen assorted Winchesters, Spencer carbines and ten-gauge shotguns, all clean and ready for use.

It was not a room conducive to long, leisurely discussion, but a plain, functioning, workingman’s premises where business was dealt with speedily and without waste of time.

“Tell me about it,” Murat ordered as they took their seats. He took out the office bottle and poured two drinks, offered the young Ranger a cigar, and settled down to learn how Danny handled things on the hunt for the
Comancheros.

A feeling of pride came to Danny as he took the drink. It had become a custom in Company “G” that Murat offered a Ranger who came in from a successful chore a drink before starting business. Usually it would have been the senior man making the report and collecting the drink, but this time—for the first time—Danny found himself receiving Murat’s unspoken approbation.

Quickly Danny told Murat all that happened from the time the
Comancheros
ambushed his party. By questions; knowing his men, Murat never expected to learn the one making the report’s share of the affair without probing; the cap
tain found out how Danny handled things with his sergeant dead and more experienced colleague wounded. Nodding in approval, he listened to Danny tell how the trailing of the
Comancheros
came to its conclusion at the Jones place. The captain’s eyebrows lifted slightly as he learned the identity of the girl on the wagon. It figured, happen a man gave thought to the matter; few other women in the West could handle a six-horse Conestoga wagon.

“Four, and the two you downed when they hit you,” Murat said when Danny came to the end of his report. “That’s the whole damned bunch finished.”

“And it cost us Buck Lemming,” Danny replied. “He was married, got a family, too, Captain.”

“I know that,” answered Murat. “It’s the way the game goes, Danny.”

“If I’d been up front——”

“Call
that
right off, boy!” the captain snapped. “Buck rode up front because it was his place as sergeant to be there. Nobody’ll blame you for the ambush, and what you’ve done since sure don’t need any apologizing for. Well, we can scratch Choya’s name out of ‘Bible Two’.”

“Yes, sir. Anything more for me?”

“Yep. I want you to pull out for Caspar, today, if you can.”

“Something up?”

“Cow thieves.”

Danny looked at the commander of Company “G” and nodded. A Ranger never knew from one day to the next what new trouble he might find himself tangling in. Fresh off the trail of a band of murderous
Comancheros,
he found himself detailed to ride out the same night to deal with a bunch of cow thieves—even if his captain had not said it in so many words.

“Sounds a mite urgent just for cow thieves,” Danny remarked, knowing such business was mostly handled by the county authorities concerned and did not normally require the Statewide powers of the Rangers.

“It goes deeper than that,” answered Murat and settled down to explain the situation to Danny, including the possibility of far worse trouble than mere cow stealing developing out of the hiring of professional gun hands. Then Murat told Danny the most prime piece of information.

“A woman running it?” Danny growled. “That doesn’t sound possible.”

“Neither does seeing a gal handle the ribbons of a six-horse Conestoga—only we’ve both just seen
that.
Anyways, she has a perfect set-up to run it. A saloon where cowhands can come and go without attracting any attention; things even a saint
^*
likes enough to make him think about grabbing a cou
ple of unbranded strays, working on them with a running iron and selling them to pay for.”

“That figgers,” agreed Danny. “Most young cowhands’d take a few chances to get extra liquor, gambling or gals. Only a gal running things makes it just that much harder.”

“It sure does.”

Studying Danny, Murat wondered if the task might be beyond the inexperienced young man’s depth. Sure Danny had trailed and downed that bunch of
Comancheros
without calling for help, but that had been a straightforward piece of work. Tangling with the cow thieves and gathering evidence against their leaders, called for courage, brains—which Murat granted Danny possessed—and experience. It was the latter Danny fell short on. Yet he might be a good man for the job. At least he would be the right age for Ella Watson, or whoever controlled the stealing, to regard as a potential cow thief, and he knew enough about cowhand work to act the part without arousing suspicion.

But could Danny swing things up there in Caspar and prevent another range war blowing a further Texas county apart at the seams?

Then Murat remembered Danny’s relationship with Dusty Fog. Should Danny find himself in water over the willows up in Caspar County, a word would bring his famous brother riding to his aid. Nor would Dusty ride alone, but bring along
his two good and efficient
amigos
Mark Counter and the Ysabel Kid. While none of that illustrious trio had ever belonged to the Rangers, they could handle the trouble in Caspar County with ease.

While rolling a cigarette, Danny watched Murat and guessed at his captain’s thoughts. His knowledge did not annoy him as much as it might have done before taking the
Comanchero
gang. Now he had proved himself in his own eyes and one thing he knew for sure. Should he handle the Caspar chore, no matter how difficult the task or how it went, he did not aim to call on Brother Dusty for help. Danny reckoned that if he could not stand on his own two feet by now, he was of no use as a Ranger.

Only having a woman at the back of the business surely made it hellish hard to handle. Danny had decided on the same line of action as that thought out by Murat. Going into Caspar as a drifting cowhand, taking on at a ranch and then letting himself be drawn into the cow stealing, seemed like the quickest way to learn who stood behind the business. Catching the actual thieves would be easy enough that way; but, from what the captain said, they were only dupes. It was the brains behind the stealing Danny wanted. One did not kill a snake by cutting off its rattles, but by stamping on its head. Remove the dupes and the organizer would lie low for a time, then emerge and corrupt another bunch
of fool young cowhands, turn them from honest, loyal hands to thieves.

“Reckon you can handle it, Danny?” asked Murat. “You can go in any way you want. I won’t hold you back.”

“I reckon I can,” Danny agreed.

At that moment the office door opened to admit Calamity and Sid.

“We’ve took the bodies down to the undertaker, Cap’n,” said the Ranger. “I reckoned you might like to have a jaw with Calamity, so she left her wagon at Smith’s store to be unloaded and come back with me.”

“Take a seat, Calamity,” Murat said, rising. “Could I offer you a drink?”

“Just a teensie-weensie lil three fingers,” she answered, accepting the chair Danny drew up for her. “Wouldn’t say no to one of them fancy cigars, neither.”

With any other woman, the request might have appeared as an affectation. Yet somehow the sight of Calamity seated with a foot raised on the desk, puffing appreciatively at one of Murat’s thin, crooked black cigars, looked entirely natural.

“I’d like to thank you officially for helping Danny get the
Comancheros,
” Murat told the girl.

“Shuckens, he helped me more than I helped him. Anyways, to pay me back he promised to show me the sights of Austin City.”

“You done seen me, gal,” Sid remarked. “Ain’t no other sights worth seeing.”

“Leave us not forget Calamity’s a visitor to Texas, Sid,” Murat growled. “Don’t make her retch. Anyways, when was this sightseeing to be done?”

“Starting tonight.”

“Only he’ll be riding out this evening.”

Calamity’s eyes went to Danny, then back and met Murat’s. “Must be something real urgent, Cap’n.”

“Urgent enough,” agreed Murat, studying the girl and remembering all the stories he had heard about her. Maybe some of them were a mite lengthened, but from the way she handled her end of the
Comanchero
business, she had sand to burn and did not spook when the going became rough. Slowly Murat swung his eyes to Danny and read mutual thoughts on the subject of Calamity in the young Ranger’s mind. Murat almost gave in, then shook his head. “No. It just couldn’t be done.”

“If I knew what the hell you meant, I’d agree,” Calamity answered.

“I don’t see why it couldn’t,” Danny put in. “Calamity’s got two weeks at least to hang around Austin afore her boss gets here.”

“Just what are you pair——” Calamity began.

“It’d be too dangerous, Danny.”

“That gal eats danger, Cap’n.”

“Hey! What the blue-blistering hell——”

“She might not care for the idea.”

“Why not put it to her, Cap’n?” asked Sid, enjoying watching the expressions on Calamity’s face while the conversation went on.

“Hold it! Hold IT!” she suddenly yelled, pounding a hand on the table top. “Just dig in your tiny Texas feet and let a half-smart lil Northern gal catch up with you.”

“Huh—Oh, hi there, Calam,” Danny drawled. “Plumb forgot you was here.”

The girl replied in a hide blistering flow of invective which drew admiring grins from the listening men. Throughout the flow Sid listened spell-bound and at its conclusion could barely hold down his applause for a mighty fine demonstration of the ancient and honorable art of cussing.

“How about it, Sid?” asked Murat. “Will she do?”

“Don’t know what for, Cap’n, but it sounds like you want me to say ‘yes,’ so being good, loyal and wanting an advance on next month’s pay, I’ll say it. Yes, I reckon she’ll do right well.”

“And me,” Danny agreed.

Clapping a hand to her forehead, Calamity gave a groan. “My mammy never gave me much advice, but she always told me to stay clear of Texas and Texans. When I first met Mark Counter I figgered she was right. But getting to know you three’s changed my mind.”

“Has, huh?” asked Danny sympathetically.

“It sure as hell has!” Calamity yelped. “Now I
know
she was right.”

“To get serious, Calam,” Murat put in, “how’d you like to help us?”

“How’d you mean, help you?” she asked suspiciously.

“We’ve something on that needs a woman’s gentle touch.”

“It’s nothing to do with some gals getting strangled, is it?”

“No,” answered Murat, sounding a mite startled. “Why should it be?”

“No reason at all, ’cepting that the last time a lawman said something like that to me, I near on wound up getting choked by a murdering skunk. Enjoyed it so much that I figured I’d like a second go.”