The Floating Outfit 65, page 16
“They have another wagon?” asked Dusty and the other two could read interest in his soft-spoken words.
“Sure have,” agreed the girl. “Way they lose ’em, it sure surprises me.”
“Let’s head for town,” Dusty ordered.
“What’s on your tricky Rio Hondo mind, Dusty?” demanded Calamity.
“I’ll tell you after I’ve seen Garve Green,” he replied and led the way up the slope.
Shortly before the trio reached Robertstown, they saw a small group of men heading in their direction. From the sight of four big bluetick hounds accompanying the men, Dusty concluded that they must be coming to meet him. The Kid needed no such conjecture, he already knew all but one member of the approaching group.
“It’s Garve, Joe Vasquez, Vivian and Brinded, along of another rancher,” he announced.
Coming up, Green’s party halted alongside Dusty’s group and showed surprise at seeing a girl seated behind the small Texan on his paint.
“We ran it down,” Dusty told the newcomers on being questioned about the ‘cougar’. To save time and explanation he did not mention the true nature of the animal. “I’m sorry we fetched you out for nothing, Major.”
While a keen follower of hunting hounds, Major Calverly showed no disappointment. “From what I’ve been hearing, I wasn’t keen on my hounds tangling with it,” he answered.
“We may as well head back to town,” Green commented. “The burying’s this afternoon.”
“Say, did you bring in that cougar’s hide?” Vasquez inquired as the horses turned towards Robertstown.
“The bullet ripped it pretty bad,” Dusty replied. “And we wanted to get Calamity to town.”
“Which same none of us want to sound nosy—” hinted Green.
“My hoss fell fording the Wapiti,” Calamity lied. “I started to walk and met up with Dusty and Lon along the trail.”
“This’s Calamity Jane,” Dusty put in before any of the local men started to wonder about the meeting.
All Green’s party showed considerable interest in Calamity; partly because everyone enjoys meeting a famous person, but also due to the fact that she dressed in a mighty unconventional manner and had a figure worth studying. Calamity’s presence prevented too much interest being taken in the hunting and killing of the lioness, for which Dusty felt grateful.
“Say, Lon,” Brinded remarked as they approached the town. “Bratley and Laslo came bitching to me about how rough you handled them last night.”
“You tell them from me they were lucky,” the Kid answered. “If I’d been using my own rifle instead of Garve’s, I’d not chanced busting the butt on them. I’d have used a bullet.”
“I’ll tell them,” grinned the rancher.
On arrival in the town, Green looked at the ranchers. “Will you all be staying for the funeral?”
“Sure,” Brinded replied.
“And me,” Calamity went on. “Poor old Gaff, he made a hand.”
Probably the old timer would have wished for no finer epitaph than those few words.
Watching the ranchers, Dusty could see no signs of the hostility and suspicion apparent the previous night. He knew that he could rely on them to give him full support for his plan. First, however, he had to obtain official approval for the plan.
“I’d like to have a word with you down to your office, Garve,” Dusty said.
Chapter Fifteen – I’ll Cut His Head Clean Off His Shoulders
DEFTLY COILING THE length of thin wire around the piece of cheese, Happy Fielder pulled on the wooden handles and sliced a portion off. Calamity Jane gave a shudder as she watched the storekeeper at work.
“What’s up, Calam, catch cold?” asked the Ysabel Kid.
“Nope,” she replied. “Watching Happy there reminded me of the New Orleans Strangler. If he’d been using wire instead of a rope, I’d not be here now.”
“I never did hear the full story about that,” the Kid said.
“Maybe I’ll tell you about it later,” promised Calamity, thinking back to how she acted as a decoy to bring into the open a man who strangled eight girls in New Orleans. xiv “Right now I have to go see how Mrs. Happy’s doing with that jacket I bought.”
From the moment of their arrival in Robertstown, Dusty, the Kid and Calamity had been busy. While Calamity went to the store and attended to her boss’ business, buying a jacket at the same time, Dusty and the Kid interviewed the town marshal, telling Green of Mark’s predicament and receiving a promise of every possible assistance. Guessing that Dusty aimed to make a move that night, Calamity decided she would need a coat—her own being with her saddle at the Mission—and visited Happy’s store. The only available coat proved a shade too large, but Happy’s wife offered to alter it and Calamity had come to try it on.
At that moment Dusty entered the store. The Kid looked expectantly and asked, “How’s everything?”
“The last telegraph message just came in. It told us all we need to know.”
During the ride back to town, Dusty had given the matter of Mark’s kidnapping serious thought. To check on his theories, he sent telegraph messages to the four nearest towns’ marshals and requested information. Certain significant points came to light. The Count bought supplies in two of the towns, alternating between them and Robertstown so that nobody would suspect the number of men actually at the Mission. One commodity he did not buy in the other towns was meat, although he did so from Robertstown. Dusty understood the point of that. Slow-elking would be safer, done carefully, than trying to steal other types of food. To avoid suspicion, the Count purchased some meat in town. To prove Dusty’s theory, neither of the other towns has been troubled by slow-elkers.
With that problem settled, Dusty gave his attention to the more important business of rescuing his amigo. He learned all he could about the Mission and knew that only careful organization, skilled work and a fair amount of luck would free Mark. If anything went wrong, they were not likely to find Mark alive when finally forcing an entrance to the building.
“It’s going to be the way you planned?” Calamity asked.
“That’s how it’ll have to be,” agreed Dusty.
“I’ll go see about the coat then,” the girl said and walked into the rear room where Happy’s wife waited.
“The men’ll gather just after dark, Lon,” Dusty said after the girl left. “It won’t be easy.”
“It’ll be hard as hell,” admitted the Kid.
Happy strolled over from where he had been doing some work and nodded to the two Texans. So far only the marshal, deputy and three ranchers knew of the kidnapping and the storekeeper started to talk about old Gaff’s death. A wagon halted outside the store and Happy directed a glance towards it.
“Hello,” he said. “They’re early this time.”
“Who?” asked Dusty, seeing two riders dismount and join the man who jumped from the wagon’s box.
“Some of the men from the Mission. I thought it’d be a week at least afore they came in again.”
While Dusty had hoped for such a break, he never expected it to come off. Unfortunately there would be no time to prepare the Kid for what Dusty planned to do. However the small Texan figured he could rely on his amigo to act right even without instructions.
“Lon!” he said.
Only one word, but it warned the Kid that something unexpected had turned up. In fact the Kid had already seen the possibilities offered by the wagon’s arrival. Although his thought did not run parallel with Dusty’s he guessed what the other had in mind.
Neither Texan showed any sign, apart from the one glance out of the window, of being interested in the newcomers. Standing with their backs to the door, elbows on the counter, they ignored the sound of the door opening. On entering the room, the three Italians saw nothing to worry them and started to walk towards the counter. Dusty wanted the men right up before he made his move and listened to the sound of their feet drawing closer. Three more steps, four at most, ought to put them just where he wanted them.
Suddenly the steps halted and he heard startled exclamations, at the same time he saw the one thing that could spoil all his plans.
To be fair to Calamity, she could not be expected to know about the arrival of the three Italians. Certainly she would not have strolled so casually out of the backroom had she been aware of their presence. Just two seconds too late, she realized the position.
Despite the shock of seeing a girl they believed to be dead, the two guards acted with commendable speed. Fetching his rifle from the crook of his arm, the man at the right found himself with a problem; knowing who of the people before him he should shoot at first. His revolver-armed companion grabbed for the weapon, but the driver carried only a knife.
Dusty and the Kid both went into action after their favorite fashion and Happy took a hurried dive behind the counter. Showing an equal grasp of the situation, Calamity thrust herself backwards to cannon into Happy’s wife and shove her into the safety of the other room.
Even as he turned, left hand driving across to draw the right side Colt, Dusty studied and assessed the situation. While the rifleman might be the furthest of the trio, he offered the greatest danger. Uncertain of who to take, the man with the rifle wavered for an instant. When dealing with the Rio Hondo gun wizard, such a delay could only prove fatal. Flame lashed from the Colt’s barrel and lead tore into the man’s chest, knocking him staggering and causing him to drop the rifle.
Although the Kid followed his usual procedure of carrying his Winchester, it rested some feet away on the counter. Springing forward, he caught up the rifle with his right hand curling into position around the butt. His summing up of the matter led him to Dusty’s conclusion and so he pivoted around knowing what to do. One glance told him the second man’s potentiality and ability. Throwing the rifle to his shoulder, the Kid aimed and drove a bullet through the man’s leg before the revolver came clear of its holster.
Whirling around, the driver made a dash for the front door. Dusty holstered his Colt and leapt after the man, yelling, “Don’t shoot him, Lon!”
Before the driver could open the door, Dusty reached him. Shooting out his hand, Dusty caught the man by the collar and heaved him back into the room. Steel glinted as the man whipped out his knife. Crouching slightly on bent knees, the man held his knife close in to his body, with left hand out in front as an aid to balance.
Seeing how the man stood, the Kid knew him to be better than fair with a knife for the posture guarded the vital areas of the belly and throat against another knife. It would also defeat the efforts of most unarmed defense measures. Swinging his rifle on to the counter once more, the Kid started to pull his bowie knife from its sheath.
“I’ll take him, Dusty!” he yelled.
“Stay out of it,” Dusty answered. “I want him alive and unharmed.”
Dusty had learned enough about knife-fighting from the Kid to know the risks he took. Out in the center of the store he had room to move around, which was one of the factors that helped him reach his decision. Under more cramped conditions he would not have attempted to capture the man with his bare hands.
Advancing with a cautious shuffle step, the driver made short stabs and passes in Dusty’s direction. Suddenly the knife flashed from his right to the left hand and he lunged in, driving it at Dusty’s belly. Alert for any eventuality, Dusty had been watching the knife and saw his danger. Quickly the small Texan pivoted his body backwards on his right foot, avoiding the lunge. Up whipped Dusty’s right arm, striking the driver’s extended left from underneath. Then Dusty caught the man’s wrist in his left hand to drag him forward and off balance. Up came Dusty’s right arm, curling over and around the trapped limb at the bicep. A grunt of agony left the Italian’s lips as Dusty bent the arm against the joint. Before he could make a move to escape, Dusty gave a heave on the arm which caused him to drop the knife, then hooked his left leg upwards with a foot and brought him crashing to the floor.
After kicking the knife away, Dusty drew his right-hand Colt and pressed it against the man’s head. An instant later the Kid arrived, his bowie knife adding to the menace which effectively ended any attempts at resistance. Bending down Dusty laid hold of the man with his left hand and hauled him to his feet. Deprived of his knife, the driver gave up the struggle and stared in a scared manner from his captors to Calamity as she emerged from the backroom.
“Will somebody tell me what the hell’s come off?” demanded Happy, rising from behind the counter.
Ignoring the question, Dusty snapped an order which sent the Kid darting from the store. Several people ran towards the building, including Marshal Green, but the Kid could see no sign of departing riders which would tell that more members of the Mission party had been outside.
“What’s all the ruckus?” Green asked as he came up.
“We just nailed three of the Mission bunch,” the Kid replied.
Green entered the store, glanced at the two wounded men and then joined Dusty at the counter.
“We’ve got our way into the Mission,” the small Texan told him.
“You mean inside that wagon?”
“Sure.”
“It won’t work, Dusty. We can’t get there before dawn and in daylight the guard’ll know right off it’s not their man on the box.”
“Their man’s going to be on it,” Dusty said.
For a moment the full import of Dusty’s words did not strike the marshal. Then the light came and Green saw difficulties.
“He’ll never do it, Dusty,” the marshal stated.
“He’ll do it,” Dusty answered in a quiet, but deadly earnest voice. “Calam, you and Lon see to those other two.”
“Yo!” replied the girl and went to obey.
“Do you speak English?” Dusty asked, turning back to the driver.
“Io non capisco,” replied the man.
“Says he don’t understand, Cap’n,” Happy put in. “He knows some, but it don’t matter. I lived among Eye-talians for years back East and speak their lingo.”
“Tell him I know about the man they’re holding at the Mission,” Dusty instructed, hiding his delight at the good fortune of finding an interpreter. “Make sure that he knows Mark Counter’s a real good friend. Then tell him he’s taking us into the valley in his wagon.”
Without wasting time in asking questions, Happy thought out the necessary words and listened to the spat-out reply.
“He says he won’t do it, Cap’n,” Happy reported. “Allows he’s a Mafiosi, that’s a member of a secret society among the Eye-talians, and he’ll die before he betrays their oath.”
Studying the man, Dusty wondered how he might bring about a change of mind. Mere physical pain would not do it, even if they did not require the man in fit shape to handle the wagon. So Dusty must find some other way. Fortunately he had some experience in the matter. On two occasions during the War Between the States Dusty went on missions with the Confederate spy Belle Boyd. xv From her, he learned much about the ways of bending an unwilling prisoner to one’s will. Among other things, Belle explained the kind of tactics most likely to influence men of different racial types. Thinking back to her advice, Dusty tried to decide on the best way to handle a Latin.
To hide his uncertainty, Dusty assumed an assured air and reached nonchalantly towards the counter. He meant to take a piece of cheese and eat it, to make the Italian believe he did not doubt that he would have his way, but his hand froze in midair. Looking down at the wire cheese-cutter, Dusty remembered Calamity’s words—overheard as he approached and entered the store—about the New Orleans Strangler.
“How strong’s that wire, Happy?” he asked.
The question came as something of a surprise, but the storekeeper shrugged and replied, “As strong as you can get, Cap’n. It’s out of a bust piano.”
“Loan me it, please. And sell me that ham you’re sending to the hotel.”
“The ha—” began Happy, but saw the serious lines on Dusty’s face. “Sure thing, Cap’n. I’ll fetch it for you,” Happy’s puzzled expression did not change when, on returning with the ham, Dusty asked him to hold it upright. Watched by the Italian—plus a bug-eyed storekeeper and marshal—Dusty looped the wire around the wide base of the ham and began to pull on the handles. At first Dusty wondered if the wire would stand the strain. If it broke, he would have to find some other way of dealing with the man. Slowly the wire cut into the ham, sinking deeper and deeper until reaching the bone. Pulling the ham from Happy’s hands, the small Texan held it suspended from the wire and showed it to the Italian.
“Tell him that he’s going to drive us into the Valley. I’ll be standing right behind him, with the wire around his neck. The first time he makes a wrong move, I’ll cut his head clean off his shoulders.”
Without making it obvious, Dusty watched the man as Happy translated his threat. Fear glowed momentarily in the man’s eyes and his hand made an involuntary movement towards his throat. Dusty felt a touch of satisfaction. Once more it appeared that Belle Boyd had given wise advice. To the Latin temperament, the threat of the wire worked where neither physical abuse or a bullet would. Already the man’s imagination pictured what that noose of wire could do to him and his eyes never left the dangling ham.
“Reckon he’ll do it, Dusty?” asked Green.
“I reckon he will. Take him to the jail, Garve. And leave that ham hanging where he can see it.”
“It’s your play.”
“I’ll come along,” Dusty remarked. “We’ve plenty to do before it’s time to make a start.”
The local doctor had arrived and relieved Calamity of her work. Joining the Texans and Green, she left the store and walked along to the jail. Once there, Dusty passed orders for the posse to be gathered and escorted the driver into the building.
If attention to detail could command success, Green mused, as he watched the small Texan make arrangements with the posse, Mark Counter was as good as released.
