Authors: J. T. Edson
Ella’s chance came when Calamity and Mousey left the room to go out back. On their return, the girls found their boss waiting in the rear passage behind the bar room. Telling Mousey to go on in, Ella kept Calamity with her.
“You’re handling that cowhand real well, Marty,” she said as Mousey went through the door to the bar room.
“Shucks, that’s no problem. He reckons I’m the only gal in the world and wants to prove it.”
“Keep him going. I want him broke, but eager to come back for more.”
“Sure, boss. Say, he wants to go to the cabin with me for the night.”
“Take him up on it and sting him for ten bucks. If you can get any more than that off him, it’s yours.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Calamity said eagerly and turned to go.
Shooting out a hand, Ella caught Calamity’s arm and stopped her. “Don’t act stupid, Marty. No rolling him or anything like that. I want him coming back here all hot and eager for another session. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am. I understand.”
While Mousey did not go to the cabin with the customers herself, she had a fair idea of what went on in it. She wished that Marty would not go, but made no objections when her new friend left with Danny. Sighing, the little girl looked at Tommy and wondered whether she ought to make an exception in his case, then decided against it as they could not afford the money Miss Ella insisted was paid for the loan of a room.
“We’re going to have to play this straight, Calam,” Danny remarked as he entered the dimly-lit cabin and located the room allocated to them.
“Reckon we are,” she agreed with a grin. “I wonder how much can be heard in the other rooms?”
“I don’t know, but let’s hold our voices down.”
Calamity stripped off her dress and sat on the edge of the bed to peel the stockings from her legs. There was not much room in the section allocated to them and the window had heavy drapes covering it. Danny blew out the lamp and blackness descended on the room.
“How’s it going, Calam?” he asked, holding his voice down.
“Fair. I don’t figure they know me or think I’m anything but what I say I am. And I know how they get the cowhands involved. Fact being, I’m supposed to be involving you right now.”
“That figures. Young Sammy was caught like it. He was one of the pair Gooch gunned down.”
“I know,” Calamity grunted. “Had words with his grieving sweetie, only she wasn’t grieving until after I got through with her.”
“Know anything more?”
“Not much. Ella’s in this real deep, likely behind it. She slips out of the saloon at nights, and sometimes in daylight, dressed in man’s clothes and goes off some place.”
“Does huh?” said Danny.
His interest sounded plain in his voice and Calamity tried to see him in the blackness of the room. “What’s that mean?”
Quickly Danny explained his findings when he located the bodies of the two cowhands, then of
the circumstances surrounding Gooch’s death. He mentioned the fact that the bounty hunter’s gun had been in its holster; and also about the third cow thief, the one who escaped death at Gooch’s hands.
“What do you reckon about that?” he asked.
“Same as you,” Calamity replied. “Gooch wouldn’t’ve gone up to any man with his gun still in leather, but he might to a woman. I could say she done good for the world if it was her who downed Gooch.”
“Maybe,” Danny drawled. “Only don’t let that stop you finding out all you can. The sooner we nail this business shut the happier I’ll feel. Tempers are a mite high about Sammy and Pike. Comes pay day and the Forked C getting to town at the same time as the Bench J, there might be trouble. The boys are sore enough to start it. Say, do you see much of that lawyer?”
“He comes around visiting with the boss. I don’t know how he figures in the game though. Reminds me of somebody, only I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Looks and sounds like one of them radical Republicans who used to run with Carpetbag Davis’ bunch,” Danny remarked.
“You hit it!” Calamity whooped.
The next instant Danny’s hand clamped over her mouth. “Hold it down, hot head!” he growled.
“Sorry, I forgot,” she whispered when he moved his hand. “That Soskice acts and talks like that cuss who was strangling the gals early this year in New Orleans. He was one of Henry George’s bunch, them Socialists or whatever they call themselves and Soskice carries the same brand.”
“Then why’s he down here?” Danny mused. “They hate the guts of us Southern folks and I can’t see one of ’em coming down here to live unless he’d good reason. We bust up the best reason when we run Carpetbag Davis’ bunch of scum out.”
“I’ll watch him, see what I can learn. Say, how do we play this lot between you and me?”
“Just how Ella Watson wants it. I’ve been trying to make her think I’m a young hard-case with a yen for money and who isn’t too particular how he gets it.”
“You’ve done it,” Calamity told him. “I’ve got to lead you on, get you all broke and eager for more of me. Then she’ll move in, or I miss my guess.”
“Then that’s how we’ll play it,” drawled Danny.
“What’re we going to do right now?” inquired Calamity, sliding into the bed.
For a moment Danny did not reply, then he said, “Well, I
have
paid my ten bucks.”
“Danged if I ever afore got paid for
that,
” remarked Calamity.
Half an hour passed before either spoke again.
“Say, Calam,” came Danny’s voice.
“Yeah?”
“How in hell do I mark down that ten dollars on my expenses?”
B
Y
T
UESDAY
D
ANNY FIGURED HE HAD SET THINGS
up to the point where Ella Watson would make him an offer. He spent the night with Calamity on Saturday and took the girl along with Mousey and Tommy on a picnic the following afternoon. Monday evening found him in town again, watched by a worried Mousey as he spent money on Calamity and the redhead urged him to extravagance. All in all, Danny gave a good impersonation of a lovesick young cowhand making a big play for a money-hungry saloon-girl.
Ella Watson walked across the room on Tuesday evening and looked down at Danny as he sat
moodily staring into a glass of beer. Knowing the signs, she came to a halt and smiled at him.
“Hi there,” she greeted. “You look like a man with worries.”
“Reckon I am, ma’am,” he replied. “Where-at’s Marty?”
“She’ll be down soon. How serious are you about her?”
“Mighty serious, ma’am. She’s a real nice gal.”
“But expensive. A girl like Marty is used to living high on the hog, Danny.”
“Yes’m.”
“Short of money, are you?” asked Ella sympathetically.
“Not short, ma’am. Flat busted.”
“The trouble is that Marty likes money spent on her,” the saloonkeeper went on, glancing to where Stocker sat by the door. “That’s the way we women are. She loves you, of course, but a girl has to live.”
“Reckon so, ma’am. Trouble being, a cowhand’s pay don’t go far.”
“I know. Well, I’ve work to do. If you want another drink, Danny, tell Izzy to let you have what you feel like and pay me back when you’ve some money.”
“Gee, that’s swell of you, ma’am,” Danny answered. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Just keep Marty happy is all you need do,” she smiled and walked away.
Although Ella did not go near Stocker, Danny saw her nod to the man and then walk into her office. A few seconds later Stocker rose and slouched out of the main doors. For half an hour nothing more happened. Danny crossed to the bar and gave the bartender Ella’s message, then asked for another bottle of beer. He took his seat again, sipping the beer and idly smoking.
The batwing doors opened and Danny saw Stocker and Soskice enter. Crossing the room, they halted at his table.
“Mind if we join you?” Soskice asked.
“Feel free,” Danny replied, glancing first at the lawyer then looking hard in Stocker’s direction. “But I thought——”
“Hell, I had to stand by Dutchy,” Stocker interrupted. “He rides for me and comes cheap. Mind, I admit he’s a mean cuss when he’s likkered.”
“Sure!” Danny grunted.
“Liked the way you handled him, though. Have a drink to show there’s no hard feelings.”
“Couldn’t buy you one back,” Danny warned.
“Don’t expect it. I know having a gal keeps a young feller short of cash.”
“It sure as hell does,” agreed Danny, wondering why the lawyer sat in on the deal and waiting to find out.
Both men bought Danny a couple of drinks without bringing up anything more than casual
conversation. So Danny decided to put out a couple of feelers and see if he could stir anything up.
“You fellers being so friendly and neighborly, it sure riles me that I got to wait to pay day afore I can repay you.”
“Reckon you’d like to earn a mite more, afore then?” Stocker asked.
“I sure as hell would.”
“Look, boy,” the rancher said, dropping his voice. “I got crowded up on the Rock Pile because the big ranchers took all the good land. A fair number of my cattle stray down there. I’d pay well for any you found and brought back.”
“How’d I know which was yours?” asked Danny.
“If they’d got the Bradded S brand on ’em, they’d be mine.”
“Shucks, I’ve not seen any Bradded S stuff on our range,” Danny groaned.
“How about unbranded stuff?” the rancher inquired.
“You mean unbranded Bench J stock?”
“Under the law, Danny,” Soskice put in, “an unbranded animal is property of the man who lays his brand on it.”
“Is that the legal law?” asked Danny, wide-eyed and eager.
“It sure is,” agreed the rancher. “Hell, I bet all the ranchers have branded dozens of mine. You’ll
only be helping me get my own back. It’d be justice and I’d pay you five dollars a head.”
“I’ll just bet you would,” Danny drawled, a crafty glint coming into his eyes. “I risk a rope for five dollars a head, when you’ll likely sell them for thirty. Mister, I may be——”
“Hold your voice down!” Soskice hissed. “You want money——”
“Not bad enough to risk a hemp bandana for that price.”
“You risked it when you rode the Rafter O’s bay,” Soskice pointed out, silencing Stocker’s angry growls with a wave of his hand.
“Sure, but for a damned sight more than you’re offering,” Danny answered. “I’ll sell at ten dollars a head, no less.”
“Ten doll——!” began Stocker.
“All grown beef. Got me twenty head located right now, not a brand on ’em and ready for picking.”
Suspicion glinted in Stocker’s eyes. “How the hell——”
“Shucks,” drawled Danny. “Word’s got around about the cow stealing up here. Why’d you reckon I come. I figured sooner or later I’d tie in with the right folks. Where’d you want ’em bringing?”
Stocker and Soskice looked at each other, then a grin creased the rancher’s face. “You’re a smart cuss,” he told Danny. “Brand ’em someplace and deliver ’em to Bowie Rock. Do you know it?”
“That one with a top shaped like the clipped point of a bowie knife, down by where the Talbot River flows off the Rock Pile?” asked Danny.
“That’s the one. I’ll be there from midnight until three in the morning tomorrow night. You deliver the cattle and collect your money in town.”
“Can’t say I like that idea.”
“It’s the way we do it,” Stocker growled.
“And it’s better that way, Danny,” the lawyer put in. “Safer too. If anybody sees you, you claim you found the cattle straying. They can search you and Turk and not find any money on you, so they can’t prove you aimed to sell them to him. And if your boss catches you coming in late and wants to know where you’ve been, he’ll not find you with more cash in your pockets than you should have.”
“You fellers look like you’ve got it all worked out,” Danny said admiringly.
“We sure have,” agreed the rancher. “Do you want in?”
“Deal me in,” drawled Danny, glancing to where Mousey and Calamity entered. I’ll see you all tomorrow night.”
“What do you think?” Soskice asked as Danny rose and walked to meet the two girls.
“He’s a slicker young cuss than I reckoned,” answered the rancher.
“Too slick, maybe,” said the lawyer. “Of course,
the ones who think they’re the smartest always fall for a girl. Watch him, Turk, and if he makes a wrong move, kill him.”
“Dutchy’d like the chance to do that,” the rancher replied.
Danny managed to get Calamity alone long enough to tell her of his progress, then he left the saloon, collected his
sabino
and rode back to the ranch. On his arrival, he put up the horse and walked across to the main house.
“Like to see you, boss,” he said when Jerome answered his knock on the front door. “Can you take a walk down to the corral with me?”
One look at Danny’s face told the rancher that something serious was afoot. So, without asking any questions, Jerome stepped out of his house and walked toward the corral at Danny’s side. Jerome did not know what to expect. It could be that the youngster had found some serious disease among the stock and wanted his boss to hear of it in privacy. There might be any of a dozen other reasons for the request. Never would Jerome have guessed the real reason for Danny’s visit; and when he heard, he could hardly believe his ears.
“I want to steal some of your cattle,” Danny remarked casually.
While noted for his skill as a poker player, Jerome could not help coming to a halt and staring at Danny.
“Reckon you’d best take that again—slow, Danny.”
Reaching into the concealed pocket built into his gunbelt, Danny extracted his badge and held it so Jerome could see the star in the circle. “I’m a Ranger in Captain Murat’s company and was sent up here to bust up the cow stealing.”
“Well, I swan!” swore the rancher. “You sure as hell had me fooled.”
“And a few other folks—I hope,” drawled Danny and went on to tell the rancher of his activities, including the offer he received. “I want proof enough to take the whole danged bunch into court, boss.”
“Then we’ll jump ’em when they take the cattle,” Jerome suggested.
“It wouldn’t do any good. They’ll just claim they know nothing and it’s two men’s word against mine. I figure to learn where they hide the stock, who they sell to and bring in the whole danged bunch.”
“We’ll play it your way. Say, can I let Ed in on this?”
“Sure,” Danny confirmed. “I’ll need help to handle the stuff, too.”
“Don’t reckon me or Ed’d do for that,” grinned the rancher.
“Or me. Can’t see them being dumb enough to buy a rancher or his
segundo
becoming cow thieves. I’ll take young Tommy.”
“Tommy?”
“Sure. He’s got a good head and he’s steady enough where Mousey’s not involved. If you’ve still got those two running irons we found by Sammy and Pike, I could use them, too.”
“I’ll see to it,” Jerome promised. “And anything else you may need.”
The rancher proved to be as good as his word. Next morning Danny, Tommy and Lyle rode out on what appeared to be an ordinary routine ranch chore, except that the two younger members of the party each carried a running iron hidden under his saddle-skirts.
During the ride Tommy listened with awe and admiration as Danny told what he knew about the cow stealing. Although Tommy had a cowhand’s disrespect for local law enforcement officers, he regarded the Texas Rangers as being something real special and his admiration for Danny grew rather than lessened on learning the other belonged to that famous body of men. Eagerly Tommy agreed to help Danny and listened carefully to his instructions.
Being older, Lyle hid his feelings and merely remarked that he had figured all along that there was more to Danny than met the eye. With his knowledge of the range, Lyle took the others to where groups of cattle grazed. Scanning the animals, Danny’s party picked out and cut any unbranded
grown beef they saw, hazing it ahead of them until they drove twenty head before their horses.
“We’d best play this the right way,” Danny remarked. “Let’s use that hollow where the boys were killed to do the branding.”
“Sure,” the foreman agreed. “I sure as hell never figured I’d be using a running iron on the boss’s cattle.”
“Or me,” Danny admitted. “Say, Ed, I’ve been kicking a fool notion around in my head. Let’s make sure we can identify our stock by running a small Bench J where it won’t show, say under the animal’s belly.”
“You’ve got a right smart notion,” the foreman grunted.
Once down in the hollow where two men died, the three cowhands set to work and branded the stock. While Tommy held the cattle, Danny cut out each animal in turn and led it to where Lyle kept a fire burning and the running irons heated to a glowing cherry-red. Showing his riding and roping skill, Danny put the captured animal down. Lyle hawg-tied it and then burned a prominent Bradded S on the animal’s left hip and traced a smaller Bench J under the belly where it would escape notice unless specifically searched for. In range terms, a brand was “something that won’t wash off,” so the cattle carried a mark of legal ownership as well as the cow thieves insignia.
The hidden brand, known as a “sleeper” became a standard weapon in the war against cow thieves in Texas and more than one light-fingered, wide-looped gent met his just deserts through Danny Fog’s “fool notion.”
Hard work and skilled handling saw all twenty head branded before darkness fell. With the preparations made, Danny and Tommy left Lyle to carry out the next part of their business; meeting Stocker and selling their “stolen” cattle.
“Good luck,” the foreman said as they parted.
“We’ll likely need it,” Danny answered with a grin.
Turning his horse, Lyle headed back in the direction of the ranch to report to his boss that all had worked out satisfactorily so far. Danny and Tommy moved the cattle a couple of miles from the hollow which held such painful associations for the animals, then halted to wait out the time until midnight.
“Do we take ’em tonight?” asked Tommy as they mounted their horses ready to make for the rendezvous.
“Nope. Not unless we have to. I want them all, from top to bottom, not just Stocker and his bunch.”
“All?”
“There’s more than just Stocker involved,” Danny told him. “All we do is ride up, deliver the
stuff and pull out. Then I’m going to trail Stocker to where he hides it. Once we know that, we can move.”
“You’re the boss,” grunted Tommy.
Shortly after midnight the two young men drove their twenty head of cattle toward the rock shaped like the clipped point of a bowie knife.
“Just act natural, Tommy, boy,” Danny warned in a low voice.
“I’m as nervous as a hound-scared cat,” the youngster groaned back.
“That’s how you should be,” Danny replied with a grin. “This’s the first time you’ve ever done any cow stealing. Can’t expect you to act easy on it. Just follow my lead though—and don’t spook.”
As they drew closer to Bowie Rock, the two young men saw a pair of shapes ride into view from a clump of scrub oaks at one side of the outcrop. Coming closer, the shapes turned into a recognizable Stocker and his bulky foreman, Schatz. The burly man’s right arm looked unnaturally white but Danny realized this to be caused by a bandage around the place where his heel stamped into flesh.
“Hold it!” Stocker growled suspiciously. “There’s two of you.”
“Needed two to handle the branding,” Danny replied. “Anyways, there’s two of you, too.”
“Who’s the other one?”
“Tommy Fayne.”
Hearing Danny’s reply, Schatz growled something inaudible but Stocker spoke to cover the sound.
“Allus figured you for a ‘saint,’ Tommy.”
“Reckoned I’d never get enough money saved to marry Mousey by sticking to cowhand’s pay,” Tommy replied.