‘This’ll do us,’ Dusty Fog declared, drawing rein and nodding to where a spring bubbled up through the floor of the valley the party was crossing. ‘We’ll make camp while there’s still light to put on Scotch hobbles.’
‘You’re using them again?’ O’Day inquired. ‘They’re hell to take off.’
‘That’s why we’re doing it,’ Waco drawled, throwing a pointed glance at the sullen, drooping Giselle Lampart as she sat her horse at Emma Nene’s side.
‘She won’t run away again,’ the blonde promised grimly.
‘I thought you said we aren’t far from Hell,’ O’Day remarked as the Texans and women dismounted.
‘It’s maybe five miles from here,’ Dusty answered. ‘Happen you’re that way inclined, Break, you can ride on and find it.’
‘In the dark?’ the man queried, glancing significantly to where the sun was sinking below the western rim of the valley.
‘Should be able to hear what you can’t see, you go on a ways,’ Waco drawled. ‘Hell comes alive after dark and sounds like Trail Street in Mulrooney when the drives are in.’
‘Despite of which, you are staying here until morning,’ O’Day pointed out. ‘That means you have a very good reason, Ed.’
‘Good enough,’ Dusty confirmed as he loosened the girths and worked his saddle back and forwards to cool the horse’s back. ‘What with Simmy Lampart being dead, the ammunition supply destroyed and the Kweharehnuh acting sort of restless, there’ll be guards out around town. They’ll be jumpy and won’t shout, “Halt, who goes there, friend or foe?” until after they’ve thrown lead at whoever’s coming to make sure they can’t do anything but halt.’
‘Even if they can’t shoot good, they could get lucky,’ Waco supplemented, scowling at Giselle as if wishing that he could send her to try out the sentries’ skill or luck.
It was sun-down on the day after Giselle’s attempted flight. Unencumbered by the wagon, Dusty and his companions had been able to travel faster than on the escape from Hell. So his estimation of the distance separating them from their destination was fairly accurate.
The day’s journey had passed uneventfully, yet not without anxieties for Dusty and Waco. There had been no sign of the Kweharehnuh scouting party who were holding the Ysabel Kid as a hostage against Giselle’s return to Hell. Shortly after the brunette had ridden away, a second wolf-scout had joined the first. They had talked, clearly discussing the situation, and the second tuivitsi had departed—presumably to take the news to Wolf Runner. Having waited until Waco returned with Giselle, the first wolf-scout had faded off. Since then, the small Texan and the young blond had been consumed with fears for the Kid’s safety.
To take their thoughts from their amigo’s possible fate, Dusty and Waco had kept up a conversation with O’Day for much of the day’s journey. On their side, they had tried to discover more about the mysterious man who had been thrown into their lives. O’Day had answered asked—and unasked—questions frankly and cheerfully. From what he had told them, he qualified for entrance to Hell and he had cleared up the matter of Eastern manners and western appearance to their satisfaction. When Waco had pointed out that he could not have purchased such a well-designed gunbelt at short notice, O’Day had laughingly reminded them that it was possible to purchase such an item in the civilized and peaceful East, provided one knew where to look and what to ask for.
For his part, O’Day had expressed a lively interest in all matters pertaining to the Comanches in general and Antelope band in particular. Although his questions had commenced on general topics, he had worked them around to the subject of the powers of the medicine men and women.
He had also been eager to hear how Lampart had won—or tricked—his way into the Kweharehnuh’ confidence and had obtained permission to build Hell in their domain.
Any details which the Texans had been unable to supply had come from Emma. It was the blonde who had told O’Day of another precaution Lampart had taken to protect his interests against the Indians. In addition to having convinced them that sudden death would come to any man who tried to steal his ammunition, or to molest legitimate visitors to the town, the mayor had had photographs taken of Ten Bears and the medicine woman. Believing that he had captured their souls, the spiritual and material heads of the band had been more amenable to his will and disinclined to make b trouble for him.
No matter how amiable and pleasant O’Day had tried to be, Giselle had refused to have anything to do with him. She had lost some of the fear which had tinted her expression when being addressed by him the previous night, but made it plain that she wanted only to be left alone. After a succession of direct snubs and monosyllabic answers, O’Day had accepted defeat and concentrated his attention on Emma and the Texans. Dusty had noticed several times that Giselle was willing to observe O’Day, even if she refused to speak to him. Stealing surreptitious looks at the man, the brunette’s face had shown mingled emotions. Interest, curiosity, alarm and disbelief played on her features, which would be swiftly turned aside if the object of her scrutiny looked at her.
Having sound reasons for wanting to arrive unnoticed in Hell and knowing that—as a result of precautions against accidental discovery taken by Lampart—the town came to life at night, Dusty had had no intention of making his entrance before dawn. Nor had he wished to let O’Day go in to spread the news of their coming. To prevent arousing the man’s suspicions when he discovered how close to town they had halted, the small Texan had produced a valid and acceptable excuse for delaying their appearance until daylight.
‘In which case, having as great an antipathy towards being shot as I felt regarding my being hung, I will bow to you gentlemen’s superior wisdom,’ O’Day declared cheerfully. Swinging down from his saddle, he went on, ‘If the ladies can bear the proximity of my presence for another night, I will be honored to spend it in their company.’
‘I can never resist anybody who calls me a lady,’ Emma smiled. Teel free to stay on with us, Break.’
‘When you’ve off-saddled, Emma, you and Mrs. Lampart might’s well go to the other side of the spring and pick the best bedding spots out,’ Dusty suggested. ‘We’ll tend to the horses.’
Obtaining the added security offered by ‘Scotch hobbling’, as opposed to using the conventional leather cuffs and linking swivel-chain of double hobbles, was a time-consuming business. There was some need for haste as the sun, dipping below the rim of the western slope, threw dark shadows over the spring. Removing their saddles and leaving behind the ropes from the horns, Emma and Giselle carried out Dusty’s instructions. They hauled their rigs' around to the western edge of the water hole, out of earshot of the men.
Making a large loop with Giselle’s rope, Waco draped it around the cavalry horse’s neck and tied a bowline knot behind the near shoulder. Then he took the longer end of the rope over and made a half hitch about the right hind leg just above the ankle joint. Carrying the end of the rope forward and up, he secured it to the loop in such a manner that the trapped limb was raised and its hoof suspended about four inches above the ground. Held in that manner, the horse could neither stray far, nor move at speed. In addition, as O’Day had commented, removing the Scotch hobble was not easy—especially when attempted in darkness and with the need to avoid making any undue noise.
While Dusty did not believe that Giselle would try to escape again, he had no intention of presenting her with the opportunity. If he had been able to hear the conversation taking place between the two women, he would have felt less certain about the brunette’s acceptance of the situation.
‘Do you have your push-knife on you, Emma?’ Giselle inquired with what she hoped sounded like casual interest, setting down her saddle.
‘No!’ the blonde answered and frowned at the brunette. ‘If I did, I wouldn’t let you have it.’
‘I only wanted to—’
‘I know what you want to do with it and the answer’s still “no”. Hell, Ed won’t let the folks do anything about us leaving them the way we did.’
‘He’s not your “Ed Caxton”,’ Giselle spat out. ‘He’s Dusty Fog!’
‘Hold your voice down, damn you, or you’ll be muttering through bloody gums!’ the blonde hissed furiously. ‘If O’Day hears—’
‘All right, don’t get mean!’ the brunette whined, knowing that Emma’s temper could be explosive on occasion.
‘Anyways, seeing that he is Dusty Fog, you should be even more sure that he’ll look after you. A feller like “Ed Caxton” might have said the hell with you and let the folks do what they want. Dusty won’t.’
‘It’s not what the people will do that bothers me. Or having to do the trick. We both know you can handle Simmy’s part easily enough as long as the box hasn’t been damaged.’
‘Then what is it?’ Emma demanded.
‘Who does that feller O’Day put you in mind of?’
‘Nobody that I can remember. His face isn’t familiar.’
‘Not the face,’ Giselle corrected. ‘His voice.’
‘His voice—?’ the blonde repeated. ‘Yes, it does sound kind of familiar.’
‘He talks just like Mephisto used to,’ Giselle said, dropping her tone almost to a whisper and throwing a frightened glance in O’Day’s direction.
‘Mephisto!’ Emma gasped and, for a moment, she looked nearly as frightened as the little brunette. Then she mastered her emotions and gave a shrug. ‘Aw, go on. Mephisto’s been dead for years.’
‘We don’t know that for sure!’ Giselle pointed out. ‘His body was never found and—’
‘Take a hold of yourself, you little fool!’ the blonde interrupted in a savage manner. ‘There were a dozen or more people saw him rush out of the hotel and jump into the East River—’
‘But his body wasn’t found!’ the brunette protested.
‘If it had’ve been, you and Simmy would most likely have wound up in jail,’ Emma said coldly. ‘That feller’s not Mephisto. After what you pair did, his face wouldn’t look like that.’
‘D ... Don’t ...!’
‘And don’t you come the harmless little angel with me. I know you, Giselle Lampart and know how much that’s worth. So O’Day talks a mite pompous, like Mephisto used to. I’ve heard plenty of fellers, actors, magicians, confidence tricksters and the like, who did. Hell! Look at his face. It’s not had vitriol thrown into it. Or do you think he looks like it might have?’
‘N ... No, it doesn’t,’ Giselle admitted with a shudder. ‘Emma, I didn’t thr—?’
‘I don’t care who threw it!’ the blonde snapped. ‘Mephisto’s dead. Only your guilty conscience makes you think O’Day is him. So forget any fool notions of running away again. We’ve too much at stake to have you hurt.’
‘Yes, we have,’ the brunette agreed and her fears appeared to flicker away. ‘And I’m the only one of us who can open the locks and safe doors.’
‘Don’t get smart, little half-sister,’ Emma warned. ‘If you double-cross me, I’ll show you that I can be as mean as Mephisto would be if he was still alive and caught up with you.’
‘D ... Don’t even think things like that, Emma!’ Giselle pleaded.
Seeing the men approaching, the women allowed their conversation to lapse. Darkness had come down by the time Dusty, Waco and O’Day had spread their bedrolls and the women had made ready for the night.
‘I could drink a whole gallon of coffee,’ Emma remarked, looking at Dusty.
‘Why not light a fire and make some?’ asked a familiar voice, drifting from the blackness of the western slope.
At the first word, the blonde let out a startled yelp, which mingled with Giselle’s squeal of alarm. Instinctively Dusty, Waco and O’Day reached for their guns. Only the Easterner completed his draw and even he did not fire. Coming on foot out of the gloomy shadows, the Kid grinned cheerfully at the various signs of alarm caused by his unheralded arrival.
‘You folks’re sure jumpy,’ the dark Texan commented, halting with his Winchester’s barrel resting on his right shoulder.
‘Blasted Injun!’ Waco snorted disgustedly, hiding his relief at seeing his amigo was unharmed. Letting the Colts sink back into their holsters, he went on, ‘I was like to blow windows in your fool head, thinking you was some other kind of varmint.’
‘Could you hit me, that is,’ countered the Kid. ‘Howdy, Miss Emma, Mrs. Lampart, friend. See this pair of buzzards didn’t manage to get you lost.’
‘Them Kweharehnuhs now, they’ve got right good sense,’ Waco declared. ‘They soon enough give you back to us.’
That seemed obvious. The Kid might be afoot, but he was in possession of all of his weapons. His attitude of cheerful ease suggested that he had not escaped and was expecting to be pursued. Staring through the darkness, Emma sought for hints that he had arrived in time to overhear her conversation with Giselle. Nothing about his voice or attitude suggested that he might have.
‘Wolf Runner figured’s how you could use some food, seeing you didn’t cook any last night or this morning,’ the Kid drawled. ‘So he sent me over to fetch you some.’
‘He’s surely generous and free-handed with his giving,’ Waco commented, staring from the Kid’s empty left hand to the rifle-filled right.
‘I’ve got it, and enough wood to make a fire, on a pack hoss up there,’ the Kid answered. ‘Left it on the hoss so I could sneak down quiet-like, ’case you wasn’t saying what a real nice young feller I be.’
‘Why’d we talk different about you than other folks?’ Waco wanted to know.
‘You’re just natural mean, boy. Why’n’t you ’n’ Ed help me tote it down?’
‘I’ll come, if you need me,’ O’Day offered.
‘Might be best if one of us stayed on here,’ Dusty replied, throwing a meaning nod towards Giselle.
‘I only asked hoping you’d say “no”,’ O’Day answered.
‘How’re things, Lon?’ Dusty inquired as they walked up the slope.
‘Easy enough,’ the Kid replied. ‘I thought they might get rough when that wolf-scout come to say Giselle’d lit out. Then the other brought word that the boy’d fetched her back.’
‘I'm damned if I know why I bothered,’ Waco injected.
‘Then tonight Wolf Runner was asking why you’d stopped instead of going on to bed down in Hell,’ the Kid continued. ‘I ’minded him that you’re only white folks ’n’ likely didn’t know for sure where the town’s at. Then it figured to him.’
‘And he let you-all come back seeing’s we’re this close,’ Dusty guessed.
‘Said I could come—’
‘Likely got tired of feeding you,’ Waco interrupted.
‘So’s I could tell you I’m fixing to go with him to the village, so’s I can say “howdy” to Ten Bears for Grandpappy Long Walker,’ the Kid concluded as if the youngster had never spoken. ‘And he allowed he’d be right honored to have me along.’
‘I thought you allus reckoned Comanches don’t tell lies?’ Waco remarked.
‘And they don’t,’ confirmed the Kid.
‘Then why don’t you say truthful that you had to threaten to bust both his legs and make him herd sheep afore he’d agree to be seen in your company?’ the youngster demanded. ‘That’s the only way you’d get me to agree to take you anyplace. And I wouldn’t be right honored about it.’
‘You know how to handle the blister end of a shovel, boy?’ Dusty growled, eyeing the blond menacingly.
‘I can’t right and truthful claim I do,’ Waco admitted proudly.
‘Keep flapping your lip and, comes us getting back to home, I’m going to improve your education on them lines,’ Dusty threatened. ‘You got something special, in mind, Lon?’
‘Why sure. I aim to find out just why they was so all-fired set on having Giselle come back.’
‘You don’t reckon it’s just to see her dance in that fancy lil costume and be sawn in half?’
‘There’s a mite more to it than that, I’d say. The braves aren’t saying much, but, what I can make out, the medicine woman, Pohawe, she’s been getting hoorawed bad over not knowing how Lampart’s tricks was pulled. That’s not good for her business.’
‘Could be she reckons she could work out how it’s done was she to see it done again,’ Waco suggested.
‘Or she’s maybe counting on the folks not being able to do it, with Lampart dead,’ Dusty went on. ‘If they can’t, their medicine’s gone sour and they can be treated like other palefaces.’
‘That could be,’ admitted the Kid. ‘Anyways, I’ll see what I can learn. Say, I’m right pleased you didn’t have that O’Day hombre come with us.’
‘I concluded you didn’t want him along,’ Dusty drawled.
‘You was right. What do you make of him?’
‘I don’t know, Lon. He’s amiable enough to talk to. Way he tells it, he’s bad-wanted in a few places and figured to lay low in Hell for a spell. Says he bought all his gear new afore setting off, so he’d be less noticeable than in city duds. Which’s true enough. But I don’t know what it is, I’m uneasy having him around.’
‘Could be you’re jealous of him being so clean-shaven,’ Waco put in.
‘Huh?’ Dusty grunted, laying a hand on his stubble-coated face.
‘Yes, sir,’ the youngster said, delighted at having noticed something that had slipped the small Texan’s notice. ‘He’s either shaved when we wasn’t looking, or got a face as bald’s a girl’s.’
‘I’ve known fellers who didn’t need to shave, even when full grown,’ the Kid announced. ‘Maybe you pair’ve been too busy to notice, but the folks in Hell’re still keeping to that no fires in the daytime ruling.’
‘We’d noticed,’ Dusty assured him. ‘Are the Kweharehnuh still letting folk in and out of town?’
‘Sure,’ the Kid confirmed. ‘Likely Ten Bears’s waiting to see whether he gets his ammunition afore he stops it. Anyways, I’ll learn all I can at the camp, then come in and let you know how things stand.’