Quiet Town (9 page)

The fourth round started with Olga getting the worst of a hard slugging attack and Bearcat Annie was forced to stand there, writhing in an agony of suspense while Eeney battered the blonde around the ring. Olga was tottering and looked about done as she sank to her knees.

“What’s wrong?” Bearcat Annie growled, climbing on to the ring and holding a drink to Mundy. Miners were offering Olga drinks although Eeney was left free of their attentions.

“Eeney wants to win tonight for some reason,” Mundy replied. He knew the saloon keeper wanted Olga to win but thought it merely so that she could tell her man to lay odds.

“Tell her she can’t.” Bearcat Annie could see her carefully arranged plan failing. “What started it?”

“Some miner bet a wad on her and she thinks he’ll be bust if she loses.” Mundy had taken the precaution of finding out.

“Go tell her he’s the richest man in town. Could afford to lose it all and think nothing of it. Tell her we’ll let her fight again before she goes and let him win his money back then.”

“She wouldn’t believe it.”

“She’d better, or you bunch won’t get paid.”

Bearcat Annie turned and walked away, the man stared after her, then went to talk to Eeney. The brunette frowned; she did not like what she was told and did not believe that Dutchy would get a chance to win his money back. She glanced at him, he certainly looked wealthy and he was with the town lawman. She knew that many town marshals played attendant to rich miners and thought that Dutchy could afford to lose. Her job was at stake, Mundy made that clear. She knew that in the West there were few things a young woman with morals could do. Fist fighting in the saloons was not a ladylike thing, but it kept her and she was never troubled by unwelcome attentions.

“Tell Olga to go back to the routine,” she said. “We’ll carry on with it.”

Mundy crossed the ring and looked at Olga. The blonde was gasping for breath and her face was marked. There was a nasty gleam in her eyes as she got up but she went into the routine once more. She was not so willing to make a serious fight of it since taking some of the punishment Eeney handed out.

Mark was watching every byplay and he saw the change in the way the two women went at it. Once more they were pulling their punches and although the fight looked just as rough he could tell there was little damage being done. Three rounds of this play acting followed and Eeney went into a routine long rehearsed. Olga sent a punch that looked as if it was meant, right into Eeney’s stomach. The German girl gasped and doubled over in a realistic manner. Olga interlaced her fingers, got her cupped hands under Eeney’s chin and heaved. Eeney went backwards as if out of control, hit the ropes and fell right over, out of the ring. She landed and by a chance was at Mark Counter’s feet. He bent and lifted her lip in his arms, putting her back on the apron of the ring.

“Ma’am, if you lose this fight ole Dutchy’s going to lose everything he’s got.”

Eeney, eyes closed and face twisted as if in pain, heard the soft spoken words and opened one eye. She looked at the handsome face and knew this Texas man knew what was happening. She also knew he was not lying to her. Anger flooded her as she realised that she was being made a fool of by Mundy.

According to the arrangement for that part of the fight she should stagger out and Olga would finish her off. Her seconds worked on her, they could feel her trembling and breathing hard. Time was called; Olga came out with confidence to get the shock of her life. Eeney came forward and smashed a punch at the side of her jaw which knocked her into the ropes in a heap. She hung there, half in and half out of the ring, tangled and helpless. Eeney came at her and Mundy yelled, catching the German girl’s arm. Eeney turned and to the crowd’s delight her fist smashed into the man’s face and knocked him staggering. The other girls of the troupe ran forward catching Eeney and dragging her back to her corner. Then Olga’s seconds helped her back and sat her down. A man from the crowd gave Olga a glass of whisky and she drank, or appeared to drink it just before she came out for the next round.

Eeney advanced with fists raised. She watched Olga staggering and made a bad mistake. Thinking Olga was hurt Eeney relaxed, then the blonde spat the whisky from her mouth into Eeney’s face. The German girl was blinded for an instant and the whisky stung her eyes. Unable to see, Eeney was at Olga’s mercy. A fist smashed into her stomach brutally, doubling her up. Her nose felt as if it suddenly burst into flames as Olga’s knee came up to slam into it. Blinded and dazed Eeney came erect with blood rushing from her nose. Olga hit her, smashing a left to Eeney’s face and knocking her into the ropes. Eeney was helpless and if Olga had been less vindictive the fight would have been over. Instead of trying to finish Eeney off the Russian girl smashed home blows to hurt her rather than knock her out.

Pain flooded over Eeney as the fists battered at her; she was helpless to do anything as the ropes rocked her into the blows. Then she felt herself falling and landed on the canvas. Her seconds were fast off the mark, crossing the ring to get to her, Olga was wild with rage, she tried to stamp on Eeney but was forced back by the seconds. She went to her corner and watched Eeney carried back to her own and laid on the stool. From the look of things Eeney would not be any more danger to her. Olga grinned savagely, hoping Eeney could come back to take more of a beating.

Mark Counter watched the two girls who were seconding Eeney. They did not appear to be doing much to help her. “Come on, Dutchy,” he said and climbed on to the side of the ring.

Taking the cloth from one of the girls Mark dipped it into the water bucket she had brought with her. He wiped the blood from Eeney’s face, she opened her eyes and looked at him, gasping for breath.

“Here,
liebchen
.” Dutchy was by Mark’s side and holding a glass of schnapps to her lips. “Drink some of this, it will give you strength.”

Eeney sipped at the schnapps and coughed, gagging on the bite of it. Mark leaned closely and whispered some advice to her, she listened to him realising he knew what he was talking about.

For all of that Eeney did not appear to be in any shape to carry on the fight. Her eyes were half closed and she staggered weakly. Olga came to meet her with a smirk of delight on her face. This was going to be good; the German cow would wish she was never born.

Halting in front of Eeney the blonde reached out and shoved her head, tilting the chin back. Then Olga struck, her fist lashing up. To miss, Eeney’s head jerked back allowing the fist to drive up in front of her face. Olga was wide open, stomach exposed to the brutal blow which Eeney swung with every ounce of her strength. The fist appeared to sink into Olga’s plump stomach almost to the wrist. The blonde croaked in agony as she doubled over, her face an ashen grey green. She clutched at her stomach in agony, pain almost too much for her to bear knifing through her. The pain was short lived. Eeney’s other fist came up, swinging with all the German girl had behind it. The smack of the blow sounded even above the cheers of the crowd. Olga’s head snapped back, she came erect and over on to her back. The thud of her landing rocked the ring but she did not feel it. Olga was beyond feeling anything, and would be for some time to come.

There was no hope of Olga toeing the line at the end of the minute and Mundy, glowering at the exhausted Eeney announced her as winner and new champion. The crowd roared their approval. Dutchy ducked between the ropes and helped Eeney back to her corner, then he looked around for the gambler.

The other men were still at the table but the chair the gambler had occupied was empty; the man was gone.

CHAPTER NINE

RAGE AND IMPOTENCE filled Dutchy as he looked at the empty seat. His money, the vital money for the mine was gone. He had made the bet without thinking of what it could mean if he lost. Now he was the winner and his dreams could be made real. The German girl was the reason he had won, she had taken a beating and come through for him. For what? He did not know, all he knew was his money was gone.

The gambler watched the fight at first without any worry for he knew the result was fixed in advance. Then as Eeney and Olga fought on he guessed something was wrong. He knew for certain when Bearcat Annie, just before the end of the fight went into her office.

Pushing his chair back the gambler rose and walked towards the door of the saloon. Every eye was on the fight and apart from a few yells for him to keep his head down he was not bothered. He reached the door and pushed it open as the yells of the crowd told him the fight was over. It was time he was far from there, hiding until things blew over. With this in mind he started to go through the doors and into the street. The night was dark out there and a fair crowd moved around. Once among them he would be safe.

A hand gripped the gambler’s collar and dragged him backwards, something sharp pricking through his coat and to his spine. A voice, low, mocking and deadly came to his ears.

“You got a real poor sense of direction, friend. Dutchy’s that ways.”

The gambler was swung against the wall and found a slim, dark deadly-looking young man facing him. A man who held a razor sharp bowie knife which said ‘no’ to any arguments. The gambler felt very scared; welshing on a bet was a serious thing in the rough frontier towns. The man who did it was lucky if he did not get hung by an irate crowd. That was why the Ysabel Kid took no chances when stopping the gambler and relieved him of the Derringer in his waistband.

The Ysabel Kid was as interested in the fight as any man in the saloon, but he was never the sort to allow his full attention to settle on one thing. He was alert and on the lookout for he knew Bearcat Annie did not like Dusty, whatever she said to the contrary. The Kid’s Commanche blood gave him the primitive savage’s ability to sense a person’s real feelings. He knew they were in the country of the enemy and although he seemed to be at ease he was alert and watchful. He saw the gambler get up to leave and guessed what was planned, so unseen by the others he rose and followed.

“All right, back to Dutchy,” the Kid said gently. “Move or I’ll drop you where you stand.”

The gambler turned and walked back towards the table like a sick beagle coming to heel. He knew the Ysabel Kid was not making an idle threat, he also knew the Kid would be praised by any jury in the West for dropping a welsher.

Dutchy was out of the ring by now, Dusty Fog and his deputies on their feet, all knowing what had happened. There was anger in each pair of eyes and the gambling man felt scared at the prospect of trouble.

“I’ll have my money, please.” Dutchy said, looking relieved.

“I haven’t enough to pay.” The words came unwillingly from the man.

“Send one of your pards to collect it from Bearcat Annie,” Dusty suggested; “You’re one of the house’s men.”

Clint Fang and several gunhung man started to move in. “Never saw him afore,” Fang stated.

“You said he was,” Dutchy snapped.

“I mistook him for one of our men.”

“You’re a liar, Fang!”

Fang’s face paled in sudden rage as he looked at the small man who stood in front of him. To call a man a liar in the West was just about the worst insult one could manage. It was never employed unless the speaker was full and ready to back that word with lead.

Talk in the saloon died away as with that instinct for danger common to a Western crowd everyone in the room realised something was wrong. All eyes were on the group of men standing by the side of the ring. Eeney Haufman, sitting on her stool, left there by the other members of the troupe, looked down. She was lonely, afraid and hurt, her body aching from the brutal fight. Even the man who caused her to be fired was ignoring her.

Dusty Fog watched Fang, knowing the man was going to make a move this time. It was not Fang who was the danger in this situation but the men at his back. They might elect to fight and a crowded saloon was no place for a gun battle. Whatever play was made the innocent bystanders must not be placed in danger.

Down lashed Fang’s hand towards his gun; he almost made it. Dusty’s Fog’s left hand crossed in a sight-defying move, bringing the Army Colt up and lashing it across Fang’s face knocking him backwards. Dusty followed the man up, his gun barrel smashing over and down on to Fang’s head, pistol-whipping him to the ground. The move was done so fast that Fang’s men were taken by surprise and none of them were set. Dusty’s deputies were not expecting so sudden a move either; the difference was that two of them knew him. Mark and the Ysabel Kid saw the signs and knew just how Dusty would react. Consequently as soon as Dusty made his move they took action, guns coming out and covering Fang’s backers.

“What’s it all about, Marshal?” a miner asked.

“Dutchy made a bet with this man, now he can’t pay off,” Dusty answered and listened to the angry rumble from the crowd before going on. “He’s a house man, or says he is.”

The crowd were not at all unanimous in their idea of how to handle the gambler. Some were in favour of lynching, others, less harsh, wanted a coat of tar and feathers, others to ride the welshing gambler out of town on a rail. The gambler was aware he was due for one or other and panicked.

“I’m a house man,” he howled, backing towards the lawmen. “Go ask Bearcat, she took me on.”

“Where’s Bearcat!” the shout went up.

Bearcat Annie listened to all the noise, sitting in her office and telling Mundy just what she thought of him; that his engagement was cancelled and that he would not get paid for his trouble. She could guess what was going to happen and decided to leave the gambler to face the music. Then she thought of something. The man was no hero, he would talk if his skin was endangered. The crowd might not take any notice of him but she knew Dusty Fog would listen and investigate. That meant the young Texan would see Mundy and discover the result of the fight was rigged in advance. Dusty was also smart enough to add up two and two to get an answer like an attempt to stop Dutchy investigating his theory.

Getting to her feet she left the room, warning Mundy to stay where he was. She crossed the room, the crowd parting to allow her to pass. Halting at the group by the table, looking innocently at Dusty Fog, she asked, “What’s the trouble?”

“Fang told us this
hombre
was a house gambler,” Dusty answered, looking just as innocent. “So Dutchy laid down four thousand the German girl won the fight. Now the gambler says he can’t pay and Fang allows he don’t work here.”

“Does he, Bearcat?” a man asked. “We don’t want to rough up a man if it ain’t needed. Is he one of your’n?”

“He works for me all right. But I said there wasn’t to be any betting on the fight. He shouldn’t have taken the money.”

There was a growl of anger at this, the crowd knew the house gamblers were taking bets all the time the fight was in progress. Bearcat Annie listened to the rumble and read the signs right. If she did not call the play correctly she was going to have a riot on her hands.

“He wasn’t working for me,” she said, watching Dusty Fog all the time. “I reckon it’d make a right nice court case to decide who wins, Captain Fog.”

“Yes’m.” Dusty mentally raised his hat to the woman. She knew the danger of a riot if she did not pay. She also knew his sense of duty would force him to prevent it. “It would. Only thing being I’ll close your place until after we hear the ruling. And that might take time. Judge Shannon’s a real busy man. It might take him a week or maybe even two before he gets around to making a judgment.”

It was now Bearcat Annie’s turn to raise a hat. Her idea would certainly hold Dutchy from getting his money. It would cost her far more for she knew Judge Shannon would follow whatever lead Dusty wanted to give in this matter. The Judge respected Dusty as a fair and impartial lawman. He would know Dusty was not acting for blind revenge in wanting the trial held up. Dusty was also well within his rights to say the saloon was closed. In a Western town a lawman could do pretty near what he wanted and no amount of legal skulldugery would affect his edict.

“All right.” Bearcat Annie knew when she was licked and the time to holler calf rope was at hand. “I reckon I’m to blame for all this. I’ll pay the bet off.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I thought you’d play square.”

Bearcat Annie met Dusty’s eyes; there was a gleam of admiration in her gaze. If this young Texan would throw in with her and her boss they would take over the town. She knew there was no hope of that. Dusty Fog would never throw in with them. From now on it would be war to the death and the devil take the last man. The cheers of the crowd at her sporting offer to assume the loss were hollow mockery in her ears. The men in the crowd regarded her once more as a good sport, paying up for a loss which might not be her own fault. They did not know the bitter gall feeling which filled her. The plan so carefully laid was spoiled now. Worse, not only did Dutchy Schulze still have sufficient money to pay for his mining equipment he now possessed enough of her money to keep his mine going.

Dutchy was about to follow Bearcat Annie to the bar and collect his money when he saw Eeney sat on the stool in the ring, her head in her hands. He noticed the sobs which were shaking her frame and said, “Collect my winnings for me, please, Captain Fog.”

‘Sure, Dutchy.”

Dutchy climbed into the ring, laying a hand on the girl’s shoulder. In their own tongue he asked, “What is wrong?”

Eeney looked at him, her left eye was discoloured and her nose bloody. “It is nothing,” she replied.

‘Where are the others?” Dutchy looked around the empty ring. “Why did they leave you here?

“Mundy says I have lost him money. I can no longer go with him.”

Mark Counter swung into the ring. He did not speak German but did not need to. He had seen the way things were going, including Mundy leaving Eeney in the ring and knew what was wrong. “I’ll get Doc to look her over down at the jail,” he suggested. “Take her down there.”

Dutchy helped the girl to her feet, Eeney hung on to him, feeling his strength as he put an arm around her. “Come,
liebchen
,” he ordered.

Bearcat Annie handed Dusty Fog the money to pay off Dutchy, smiling with her lips but not her eyes. She saw Dutchy and Mark helping Eeney from the ring and her voice went over the noise of the crowd. “Hey, Dutchy, come on up and have a drink. Just to show there’s no ill-feelings. Bring Eeney with you.”

Dutchy was about to object, but all round were men he liked and was friendly with. They urged him and the girl towards the bar where drinks were waiting for them. Eeney managed to raise a smile and answer the cheers of the crowd with a wave. “Great fight, gal,” a miner whooped. “She’d give you a good whirl, Bearcat.”

There was a hard gleam in Bearcat Annie’s eyes as she looked at Eeney. With a smile on her lips she studied the girl. Bearcat Annie was known to be tough and a better than fair exponent of the art of hair-yanking, all-in frontier fighting as practised by the saloon women.

“She might at that. How about it, Eeney?”

“No!” Dutchy answered, his voice firm and definite. “From now on Eeney does not fight again.”

“That’s a real pity.” Bearcat Annie held down her annoyance. If she could get this German girl in a fight she would have some of her revenge. “Reckon you’re right. She doesn’t want to get hurt after coming off lucky like that.”

“What do you. mean?” Eeney bristled like a cat; she was proud of her fighting skill. “Lucky?”

“Wasn’t it luck that brought you through?” Bearcat Annie mocked. “I thought Russian Olga was whipping you.”

The two women faced each other at the bar and the crowd felt a surge of anticipation running through it at the prospect of another fight. Dusty Fog looked the two women over and remarked, “One thing’s for sure, Bearcat, you know when to make a challenge. You sit back and wait for an edge.”

“Meaning?”

“Eeney’s just ended a real tough fight, now you want her to stack against you. I call that being real brave.”

The crowd listened to every word, the eagerness for the fight dying as they looked at the exhausted German girl, then at Bearcat Annie. The big blonde woman scowled. It appeared that Dusty Fog was once more stopping her plans. She wanted to fling herself at Eeney and savage the girl to relieve her own feelings. To do so now would lose her the favour of the crowd after regaining it by paying off the bet. Once more she forced through a smile. “All right. Pity you won’t be staying here, girlie. Otherwise we might have put on a match.”

Dutchy gently slipped the robe over Eeney’s shoulders and with his arm around her turned from the bar, he did not mention it but if his plans went right Eeney would not he leaving town. However even if she stayed Dutchy did not intend to let her carry on making her living in the manner she had been doing it. Eeney was annoyed at Bearcat Annie’s attitude, she felt ashamed by her refusal to meet the challenge. She started to strain away, to tell the fat blonde woman she was willing to go into the ring immediately.

“Come Eeney!” The voice was stern, and she felt herself obeying it meekly.

Bearcat Annie watched Dutchy and Eeney walking away and threw back her head. She laughed loud and bellowed, “Belly up to the bar, boys. Looks like the champion’s retired.”

There was a laugh at that and Eeney, face flushing scarlet tried to turn. Dutchy kept hold of her shoulder, meeting her eyes and saying gently, “No,
liebchen
, you have finished with that way now.”

Dusty and his deputies followed Dutchy from the saloon. The small Texan looked at the robe Eeney wore and asked, “Where are your clothes, ma’am?”

“At the back of the saloon, in Mundy’s wagon. He said I could not have them.”

“Did huh?” Dusty’s reply was mild. “Reckon he can be talked round if you do it right. Let’s go, Lon.”

Eeney was about to say something but she was too late, Dusty and the Ysabel Kid were gone, walking around the corner of the saloon. Mark looked at the girl then at Dutchy. “Come on. Let’s go down to the jail and wait.”

“Mundy won’t give up my clothes,” Eeney warned. “He is very violent when annoyed and he carries a gun.”

“Don’t you worry none, ma’am. Ole Dusty’s real persuasive when he needs to be,” Mark answered. “Come on, let’s get off the streets.”

The back of the saloon was surrounded by a board fence and used as a dump for cases of empty bottles. A street ran behind the saloon and on it stood Mundy’s wagon, lit by a lamp. Inside the four girls were sat at the back, Olga lay on a rough bunk, still unconscious and Mundy was trying to open a trunk.

“Don’t bother, friend. We can carry it without emptying her.”

Turning Mundy saw two men, one tall, the other smaller. They stood in the light of the lamp, the badges on their vests reflecting the light. “What do you want here?” he growled.

“Miss Haufman’s gear,” Dusty answered. “So turn her loose and we’ll herd her to home.”

Mundy straightened up, his lips drawing back in a sneer. “Yeah?” he asked, his hand dropping casually to his coat pocket.

“Yeah!” Dusty’s right hand made a sight-defying move, the left side Colt corning out and lined. “Just hand her over, right now.”

Slowly Mundy’s eyes went from the gun to Dusty’s face. He could read no sigh of indecision or lack of purpose in that face. He knew that if he did not hand over the box he would wish he had. “This’s it. I was just going to take the money she’s made me lose.”

Dusty climbed into the wagon and shoved the box towards the Kid. He holstered his gun and turned to face Mundy. “I don’t like you or your way of making a living,
hombre
,” he warned. “You set that fight up to cost a friend of mine plenty.”