Quiet Town (14 page)

Maggie staggered into the bar, a girl rushing at her. She ducked and caught the girl by the legs, heaving and straightening. The girl went over the bar out of sight and Maggie hurled herself at the three remaining girls who were ganging up on Roxie.

Bearcat Annie and Eeney fought their way back to the bar. Annie locked her arms round the other woman’s bare waist, squeezing hard. Eeney gasped in pain as she was crushed, her fists pounding at the blonde’s face. The was enough steam behind the blows to make Bearcat Annie scream and tighten her hold. Then Eeney dug her fingers deep into the tangle of blonde hair and pulled with all her strength.

Annie howled like a train going into a tunnel. She swung Eeney round and lifted, throwing her on to the bar top. Eeney’s feet came up into the blonde’s face and pushed her hard, then Eeney fell over the bar and landed on the dance-hall girl. The girl pushed Eeney over and got to her feet to attack her. It was a mistake. Bearcat Annie caught up a chair and seeing a head come up ran back and brought it smashing down. The girl gave a cry and went down again, Eeney forced herself up; the big blonde was leaning on the bar, gasping in pain and exhaustion. Eeney caught the woman’s hair, jerked her head up and slammed it down on to the bar. Annie was dazed by the blow but her own hands laced into Eeney’s tangled hair. She braced her foot against the bar and pulled. Eeney was forced to go over the bar, she felt as if the very scalp was being torn from her head. She was dragged over and on to the floor, hooking her leg behind Bearcat Annie’s and bringing her down.

It was even worse now, Bearcat Annie fought with savage rage, her weight counting against Eeney. She threw a leg over the German girl, holding her down by sheer weight, then her hands gripped Eeuey’s hair and tried to smash the head on to the floor. Eeney braced her neck muscles trying to hold back the shattering force of the blows, but her head hit the floor hard. Her head was spinning and she could hardly keep up her strength to try and fight back, her hands weakly pushed at the heavy weight on her.

At the bar the rest of the women were all but spent; only two dancehall girls were left on their feet, struggling weakly with Roxie and Maggie. The big woman was just about ready to collapse, so were the others. Then Maggie saw her chance, she gripped Roxie by the hair with one hand, the other digging fingers into the back of one of the girls’ neck. Then with all her strength she smashed the two skulls together, with the third girl’s head between them. The girl moaned and went down in a limp heap, once more Maggie crashed the heads together and let Roxie and the last girl drop. She swayed herself and almost fell.

Bearcat Annie, still kneeling astride Eeney and trying to smash the other woman’s head to the floor, looked up. She saw Maggie was the last woman on her feet and knew she must try and finish the black-haired woman off. She knotted her left hand in Eeney’s hair and smashed a brutal right to her face, let her head flop back to the floor. Gripping the edge of a nearby table, the blonde tried to pull herself up. The table tipped over and Bearcat Annie dragged herself up by the edge: She swayed on her feet, sobbing in exhaustion as she started for Maggie Bollinger who stood with her legs braced apart and mouth hanging open.

Maggie was exhausted. She had taken the brunt of the attack by the saloon girls and was only barely conscious of what was happening. She saw the big saloon keeper standing but her mind would not focus or give her aching body any instructions. Bearcat Annie stumbled forward then as she came into range swung a wild haymaker. It smashed like a club into the other woman’s cheek. Maggie’s head rocked to one side, snapping over hard. She reeled back, smashing into the bar. Her legs gave way and allowed her to slide down until she sat on the floor with her back against the bar. Bearcat Annie looked down, swaying and almost falling, she gripped the bar to hold herself up and lifted her foot to stamp down on Maggie.

Laying on the floor Eeney felt pain welling over her; from head to foot she seemed to be a mass of bruises and pain. Then she sat up, dazedly, seeing Bearcat Annie staggering at Maggie. Weakly she reached out then gripped the edge of the table to drag herself up on to her knees. Her bruised bloody face showed her exhaustion, her eyes glassy. Through the swirling mists which whirled around her as she tried to get up she saw something. Hanging to the table Eeney’s eyes managed to focus on the stairs, at Mark Counter. The big Texan had holstered his guns and was watching her, he saw her eyes meet his and clenching his fist swung it as if punching. Eeney gave a gasp, she recognised Mark even though her mind was so dazed that it would hardly function. Then she realised, this was the man who had help her beat Russian Olga, telling her how to handle the other woman. She saw him make the punching motion once more and in a flash it came to her what he meant. She had fought Bearcat Annie under the big blonde woman’s own terms instead of using the skill she had gained while travelling with Mundy’s troupe. That was why she got whipped. Bearcat Annie knew more about all-in rough-house fighting than Eeney did.

It took all Eeney’s will-power to shove herself to her feet, she could barely stand. The watching gunmen yelled with delight, they had thought the fight was over, now it looked as if the girl was going to carry on. They admired Eeney for her sheer guts and yelled the encouragement to her. Eeney was oblivious to it all and in her head there seemed to be a roaring. Yet she kept her feet and closed with Bearcat Annie who hung on to the bar and stamped weakly at Maggie, missing the first time. Eeney caught Bearcat Annie’s bare shoulder and turned the other woman round, then swung her fist. She tried to keep up her fists in the way she had learned from Mundy, swinging again, rocking the big blonde’s head back. Bearcat Annie felt the punch, it slammed into her mouth. With a moaning scream Bearcat Annie lunged forward but Eeney backed off, swinging a left then a right which rocked Bearcat Annie’s head again.

Still holding her fists clenched Eeney followed the staggering blonde, at every step slamming another punch into the bloody face. Bearcat Annie was helpless now. Her hands flopping limp and helpless at her sides as the punches rocked her head from side to side and staggered her back across the room. Eeney shot out a right, her arm driving the fist full into Bearcat Annie’s mouth. The big woman looked as if she was running backwards and hit the batwing doors, they parted just enough to allow her to go half out. Then she hung here, her arms over the top of the doors, holding her up.

Eeney almost fell; she clung to a table to help keep her feet. Behind her the gunmen crowded forward eager to see the end of the fight. Yet Eeney did not hear them. Sobbing in pain and exhaustion she staggered forward. There was only one thing she could see, Bearcat Annie’s face, blood running from nose and mouth, one eye blackened, the other swelling and discoloured. Bearcat Annie hung there, helpless, mouth hanging open. She did not even know Eeney was coming nearer. The German woman halted, her breasts heaving and her fist clenching. She ached in every inch of her body, the agony of her hair, which felt as if the roots were on fire, the raw taste of blood in her throat, they were going now, sinking into numbness. With every ounce of her weight behind her she swung her fist. It was a beautiful punch, thrown with swing and power behind it. Bearcat Annie’s head rocked, the batwing doors swung open and the big blonde went backwards. Her feet shot from under her and she fell on to her back in the street. Eeney staggered after her, out of the doors. Her legs were buckling as she crossed the sidewalk, down to the street and dropped forward, sinking on to her knees, astride the unconscious Bearcat Annie. Eeney’s hands supported her for a moment, then as men and women came running towards her everything went black.

CHAPTER FOUTEEN

DUSTY FOG and his deputies watched the fight in silence, only regretting they could not give their vocal encouragement to their three friends. The gunmen were completely absorbed in watching and not one of them made any attempt to turn around. Then as Eeney started to knock the battered Bearcat Annie across the floor Dusty tensed and nodded to his men. The other four were ready, they could see the time was fast coming for them to take a hand. Bearcat Annie and Eeney went through the door and with a shattering rebel yell Dusty Fog leapt from the stairs on to the floor, Mark Counter following him. The Ysabel Kid put a hand on the banister, vaulted over and landed catlike behind the gunmen, his rifle held hip high but ready to use.

The gunmen came round, hands fanning down towards guns, then freezing as they saw the five young men behind them. It was like Dusty had told Kennet, a good man with a gun knew just when to move and when he must stand immobile. It was time to stand right now. The hired guns knew who they were up against and knew that although they outnumbered the Texans they were still beaten.

“All right, throw them high!” Dusty snapped.

Any thought of hostile action was ended definitely by the arrival of Stone Hart and the other Wedge crew, entering the saloon with guns held ready. Dusty nodded his approval and thanks to Stone Hart, then glanced at the gunmen. There was no rancour in his look, these were just hired men and of no importance to him one way or the other.

Stone Hart looked around at the groaning, half-naked women and the wreck caused by the fight. “Man, looks like there’s been a fair round in here,” he said. “How about these bunch, Dusty?”

“Take them to wherever their hosses are and see they leave town,” Dusty replied. “Handle it for me, will you, Stone! Mark, go fetch Mrs. Schulze and Bearcat Annie in here. Rusty, you make a round of the town, see all’s quiet, then go back to the jail. Mark, Lon, we’ll have a look in the office, see what’s in the safe if we can open it.”

Doc Leroy was busy examining the girls even as the hired guns were herded out under the experienced eyes of the Wedge crew. Dutchy, Cy Bollinger and Happy came in. The blacksmith was carrying Eeney and gently laid her on top of the bar. Then he turned and went to his wife, bending over her. Happy was by Roxie’s side, his face showing anxiety. “Doc!” he gasped. “Come over here and look at Roxie.”

“Already have, boy,” Doc answered. “She’s all right.”

Men were crowding into the saloon now, all ogling the half-naked and battered contestants. They were forced apart as Mark came through carrying the unconscious Bearcat Annie in his arms. He laid her on the floor and glanced around with some distaste. “All right,” he barked. “Let’s have this place cleared. Right now.”

The crowd faded away. They had learned the way of the Texas boys by that time.

The saloon doors opened again and Mrs. Gillem came in with several other women behind her. The old woman glanced around, picked up Maggie Bollinger’s torn gingham dress and grunted. “Looks like it was a real battle.”

“Sure was, ma’am,” Mark agreed. “Say, I lost my suggan, there’s enough material here to make me a dandy one.”

“I’ll see about it,” Mrs. Gillem promised.

That was how Mark Counter came to own a suggan, a kind of heavy patchwork quilt comfort made from, among other things, the clothing of the participants of the battle in Bearcat Annie’s saloon.

“Reckon we can leave the ladies to handle things, with Doc’s help,” Dusty remarked. “Let’s take a look in the office.”

“Man, this is lucky,” the Ysabel Kid remarked as they entered the office and found the safe door open. “Saves us trying to find a key.”

The three Texans went to the safe and took out the papers. Dusty was about to check through them when he saw the bottle Bearcat Annie’s husband had left. He pulled the cork out and a sweet, sickly aroma permeated the air. It was not the sort of thing one would expect to find in Bearcat Annie’s safe although for a moment Dusty did not connect what it was with anything.

The Ysabel Kid’s nostrils quivered, his keen senses working hard to try and locate where he had smelled that scent before. Then he remembered. “Remember that bunch who tried to sticky Dutchy up?” he asked. “They smelled like they’d been round some of this stuff.”

“And that Mexican we caught out at Dutchy’s place,” Dusty answered. “I’ve seen this stuff before but I can’t place where.”

Mark was leafing through the papers, he looked at the other two. “Reckon you called it wrong for once, Dusty. I make it Bearcat Annie was the big wheel.”

Dusty glanced at the papers; there were title needs to saloons, gambling houses, even some of the freight companies which had been driven out of business. The one thing there was not was money. The safe held nothing but papers, not a single dollar of cash.

“I’d sure like to know where she hid Calhoun’s men out in town,” Dusty remarked. “The men would be easy, but not the horses. We checked the livery barns and every one of the empty freight companies’ buildings.”

Mark picked a sheet of paper up from the bottom of the safe and blew dust from it, looking down at the faded print, then passing it to Dusty. “Reckon I could make a fair guess at where they were kept.”

Dusty accepted the paper, glanced at it and nodded. Of course, that was the obvious answer. The one place other than either livery barn, freight company or stageline which would have a fair number of horses around. The one place Dusty had never thought of looking in. He could see everything clearly now, it all added up to one thing. His guess was correct, Bearcat Annie was not the big wheel. That was when he remembered what the scent in the bottle was used for.

* * *

Rusty Willis walked the streets of Quiet Town and pondered on the way the townsfolk greeted him. When he came to town with the Wedge he was regarded either as a wild heller on a spree or as a source of profit. Here he was a respected and respectable member of the town law. Even mothers with young daughters smiled at him now.

He was on one of the quiet, semi-residential streets, walking along at an easy pace, noting that the people who lived there appeared to be at home instead of out seeing the sights of the town. He was approaching a building when he saw a buggy standing in front of him, the horse facing in his direction. The buggy was in the light of the windows and open door, an innocent enough looking thing in a town like this. Rusty glanced at it and gave it little thought. He got his bearings and saw that the building was Buzzard Grimwood’s establishment. The two storey house and shop, the high plank fence which surrounded his property, hiding from view his large stables where he kept the teams for his hearses and the hearses themselves.

A man came from the building, a slim man wearing the dress of a professional gambler, grey cutaway coat and white, low crowned hat showing plainly in the light. Somehow he looked familiar to Rusty although the young man could not tie him down.

Even as Rusty stood looking the man swung a carpetbag onto the seat of the buggy and came around to get in. There was nothing wrong with the sight except that Rusty was a lawman now and thought differently from when he first rode into Quiet Town. The man might be quite harmless and innocently visiting Grimwood. It would do no harm to check up. Rusty was about to walk forward when he remembered two of Dusty’s instructions. Never approach a buggy in such a way the man in it could run you down. Never, no matter how innocent he looked, approach a suspect without being ready to take action against him.

Quickly Rusty crossed the street, coming alongside the man, hand hanging by the butt of his gun as he called, “Hold it up there, mister. I’m a deputy—.”

The man in the buggy twisted around fast, seeing the badge glinting on Rusty Willis’s vest. With a snarl the man sent his hand under his coat. The move was fast, very fast. Rusty could not equal such speed, but thanks to Dusty’s warning he was not taken by surprise. Even as the short barrelled gun came from under the man’s coat and roared Rusty was dropping. The bullet cut a hole in his hat brim as he landed on the ground, hand fanning to the butt of his old Dance gun. The heavy Confederate revolver came up, lining and roaring loud in Rusty’s hand. For a copy of a Colt Dragoon the Dance made a fair job of shooting. The heavy ball caught the man in his chest, knocking him backwards from the buggy. The horse lunged forward, swinging the buggy into the sidewalk, one wheel catching a hitching post and slamming the vehicle to a halt. The carpetbag was thrown from the buggy; it burst open as it landed and in the light of the shop window Rusty saw money spill out.

Walking forward, his Dance gun held ready Rusty went to the man he had killed. People were coming from their houses, running towards him as he turned the body over and looked down at the face. Rusty straightened up, his face working as he recognised the man he had shot. Ignoring the crowd he holstered his gun, shoved the money back into the carpetbag and turned to make for the Bearcat Annie saloon to report to his boss. He wondered what Dusty was going to say.

Dusty Fog was coming from the office, followed by Mark Counter and the Ysabel Kid. They looked around. The place was empty now, the women upstairs in beds, dancehall girls and town women laying side by side recovering from the fight. The three Texans were going to collect the last and most vital member of the gang which brought terror and trouble to Quiet Town. They halted as Rusty came in, face lined with worry at what he had done.

“What’s wrong, boy?” Dusty asked, glancing at the carpetbag Rusty held.

“I’ve just made a bad mistake, killed a man. Honest Dusty, I didn’t recognise him, he wasn’t wearing his usual clothes. When I spoke to him, told him I was deputy, he drew and shot at me and I killed him.”

“So?” Dusty asked, knowing there was more to it than that. Rusty would not be worried unless it was something real bad. Killing a man who acted like that was to be regretted, but necessary.

“It was Buzzard Grimwood. I didn’t recognise him in that get-up and I killed him, Dusty.”

Dusty glanced at the sheet of paper he held. The marriage certificate between Annie Gill and James Thornlay Grimwood. Then he looked at Rusty Willis and answered, “Good, you likely saved me having to do it.”

THE END