‘Hey, Dusty!’ Waco greeted as he walked into the main office at eleven o’clock on Saturday morning. ‘The new folks at that saloon down Main Street have arrived, from the look of it.’
‘Have, huh?’ Dusty answered, looking up from where he sat writing out the desk log. ‘You’re late getting in.’
‘Was a mite late getting up this morning,’ the youngster replied. ‘Where’re the others?’
‘Mark and Lon’re making the first rounds of the day, Frank’s seeing off the two tinhorns we brought in yesterday.’
‘What happened to them in court?’
‘Fined two hundred and fifty dollars each, which same left them with about enough to pay their stage coach fare to Newton. I’ll say one thing for the judge, he sure doesn’t waste any time. They go in and are fined almost in the same breath, and he makes the fines just the right amount, too.’
This did not surprise Waco for he knew that Dusty and the judge met on the first day before court, arranging a schedule of fines for the various minor offenders brought up each morning.
‘Have fun on the buggy ride?’ Dusty inquired.
‘Softest buggy I ever did ride,’ Waco told him. ‘How’s about those two cowhands I had the rim in with over Babsy last night?’
‘We brought ’em ’round and they apologized to you and Babsy in your absence, then went to collect their horses and head out to their outfit’s camp. Didn’t I hear somebody getting spanked last night?’
‘When?’ asked Waco innocently.
‘Right after you hauled Babsy out of sight; and before you say “Where?” it was behind the store next to the hotel.’
‘Now who’d go spanking a lady? Say, let’s go look over these new folks. Tolerable fine outfit they’ve come in with, four wagons of it.’
Laying aside the desk’s pen, Dusty crossed the room and took his hat from the peg in passing. With Waco at his side, he strolled along the street towards the building where four wagons stood in line. There were several empty buildings of various types along Main Street, but each day the number grew smaller as people flocked in to the prosperous and busy trail end town. It appeared that there would be another saloon competing for trade; and from the way men and women hurried back and forward, carrying tables, chairs and other equipment, the new owner intended to commence the competition as soon as possible.
Dusty recognized the big, buxom blonde woman who stood on the sidewalk and directed operations. Clearly the recognition was mutual for she smiled and came forward, holding out her right hand.
‘Howdy, Cap’n Fog,’ she greeted. ‘I heard tell you’d been made marshal down here. Gilgore’s the name, they call me Buffalo Kate.’
‘Right pleased to meet you, ma’am,’ Dusty replied, taking the woman’s hand. ‘Thanks for your warning that day back to Brownton.’
‘Think nothing of it. You’d the whip-hand of that bunch but I didn’t know if you’d recognized Fagan and took him for an honest lawman. I guess what you’d do when you left town, even before I saw Waldo Burkman and the other cattle-buyers pulling out. Anyways, Grief, the mayor up to Brownton, had been after me to cut him in as a non-paying profit-drawing partner. So I took up an offer Frenchie Lefarge made me for my place. Sold out to him afore he realized Mulrooney was getting all the trade. Set my aim down here, bought this place and here I am.’
At that moment Freddie came from the Fair Lady and walked along the street then crossed over and came towards Buffalo Kate’s wagon. Freddie wore her town clothes and felt dog-tired for the previous nights had been hectic with late hours. The noise of Kate’s party arriving had disturbed Freddie’s sleep and on rising, the lady mayor of Mulrooney decided she might as well go over to meet the new arrivals. If the newcomers needed help in settling down, Freddie hoped to be able to supply it. She also hoped that she might be able to bring up the subject of how she expected Mulrooney trades people to act.
‘Hello,’ she greeted. ‘Good morning, Dusty.’
‘Morning, Freddie,’ Dusty replied. ‘This’s Miss Gilgore, Miss Gilgore, meet Miss Woods.’
‘Hi there, girlie,’ Kate said. ‘Come over to size us up and find out how much trade we’ll take away from you?’
‘Not exactly,’ Freddie answered a trifle coldly for she had not liked the other woman’s tone.
Buffalo Kate had some considerable experience in running a saloon in a western town. Every instinct she possessed warned her that the young woman before her could be a dangerous rival in a business sense. She also figured out that Freddie was not merely an ordinary saloon girl. Nor had the friendly way Freddie greeted Dusty passed unnoticed. Most likely that prissy-talking limey dude came over to impress her rival saloonkeeper with the fact that she was on first-name terms with the town marshal. So Kate aimed to show that she did not let other folk’s friends worry her.
‘Say,’ she said, waving a hand towards the Fair Lady. ‘Do you work at that trap over there?’
‘I happen to own the Fair Lady,’ Freddie answered.
‘Land-sakes,’ Kate gasped in well-simulated surprise. ‘What next?’
‘And what might that mean?’ asked Freddie.
‘I’ve heard of dudes buying up ranches, but never of one trying to run a saloon.’
‘There are some people who say I do pretty well at it,’ Freddie stated.
‘Sure,’ Kate replied, ‘but up to now you’ve had no competition.’
‘Have I any now?’ Freddie asked. ‘I heard that somebody had bought this place to run as a saloon, but I—oh, you mean this ju—stuff you’re taking in is to be used as fixtures for a saloon?’
Watching the two women, Dusty could almost see the sparks flying. He gave a glance at Waco and saw the youngster grinning. Maybe it struck Waco as being amusing but Dusty figured he could get along very well without two feuding saloonkeepers—and them a pair of real nice, friendly women unless roused.
If Freddie had been less tired she might have avoided any stirring of trouble with Buffalo Kate. Maybe—only maybe. Freddie came from a fighting stock; of a breed which won their fortune in the first place with their courage and swords and enlarged it while helping build Britain into the great country it was at that time. So Freddie would not back down from any challenge; and she knew that the gauntlet had been thrown down between them.
‘By the way, Miss Gilgore,’ Freddie went on after a brittle silence of almost a minute. ‘I happen to be mayor of Mulrooney and we have certain ordinances designed to keep out the riff-raff and unruly elements. One of the ordinances allows the marshal to inspect all gambling equipment any time he wishes to.’
‘Has he inspected your games yet?’ Kate countered.
A flush crept over Freddie’s cheeks as she realized that Dusty had not yet inspected her gambling games. So much happened on the previous afternoon after the appointment of Frank Derringer as gambling consultant that Dusty did not find time to check the Fair Lady’s games. Nor, if it came to a point, did he see the need to do so in any great hurry as he knew Freddie ran everything fair and above board.
‘My games are open to inspection as we’re erecting them, Cap’n Fog,’ Kate said, after allowing a pause for Freddie to make some excuse. ‘Of course I realize that wouldn’t apply to everybody.’
‘You’ll come on over and inspect my games right now, Du—Captain Fog!’ Freddie snorted. ‘And ask this person to send one of her house gamblers along to help you. When dealing with the lower elements one has to prove everything to their limited satisfaction.’
Now it appeared to be Kate’s turn to redden up in anger. A cold glint came to Kate’s eyes and she studied Freddie. Not even the loose sleeved white blouse and doeskin divided skirt could hide the strength and firm-fleshed power of Freddie’s body from Kate and the blonde found, not entirely to her surprise, that she did not face a milk-soft dude but a woman as tough and capable as herself. Kate realized that they had taken the matter as far as they could without reaching a point where neither could back out of a physical brawl. Knowing something of western towns, Kate had more sense than to start brawling with a business rival in the open street on the day of her arrival. There only remained one thing—yet probably the most difficult thing of all, to get out of the situation without loss of face or appearing to back down.
‘Ladies,’ Dusty said, realizing how far the affair had gone and offering the women a way out. ‘I’ll send Waco to relieve Frank Derringer and then we’ll go over to the Fair Lady while Miss Gilgore—’
‘Make it Kate, cap’n, I’ll be around here for a fair time,’ the blonde interrupted, throwing a defiant glance at Freddie.
‘While Kate gets her place set up,’ Dusty put in hurriedly. ‘Loan me one of your house dealers, Kate, to go over the Fair Lady with Derringer.’
‘Shuckens, cap’n, I trust you.’
‘I insist you send one!’ Freddie snapped.
‘Yeah!’ bristled Kate. ‘And who—’
‘Likely Miss Kate can’t spare anybody, her crowd all working so hard,’ Waco remarked, doing the right thing instinctively.
His words offered both Freddie and Kate a face-saver and neither looked entirely unhappy about it.
‘Say, Freddie,’ Dusty put in, mentally blessing Waco for the words. ‘I asked the trail bosses to be at the jail at noon. Can you go put up the idea we discussed last night to them while I do my work?’
Slowly Freddie unclenched her tight-closed right hand. She gave a sniff and nodded her agreement. At last she had been given a chance to withdraw without it appearing that the fat, over-stuffed blonde ran her off. Her sense of responsibility alone would have made her attend to a civic duty anyway; which was what Dusty counted on when he made the suggestion.
‘What’s all that about?’ Kate asked, watching Freddie walk away.
The saloons aren’t allowed to open on Sunday and the sale of liquor is banned for the day. So we figured to give the cowhands a chance to show off a mite to the town folks and take their minds off not being able to drink and whoop things up in town.’
‘Your idea?’
‘Part mine, part Freddie’s,’ Dusty admitted.
‘Who is she?’
‘Her name’s Freddie Woods, she helped found the town and folks elected her mayor. She’s a real nice gal.’
‘Yeah?’ sniffed Kate. ‘Well, she gets no-place faster than that with me.’
‘Why?’ Dusty asked.
‘Huh?’ replied Kate, looking confused. ‘I—she—excuse me, cap’n. I’ve gotta hurry my folks on happen I hope to open tonight.’
Watching Kate walk away, Dusty grinned faintly and Waco asked what might be amusing his amigo.
‘Those two, pawing dirt and sharpening their horns,’ Dusty explained and glanced at the left side of the youngster’s neck. Tour bandana’s slipping, boy.’
Waco gave a guilty start and reached up to raise the bandana so that it covered the oval-shaped bruise on the side of his neck.
‘If you-all so smart,’ he said to hide his confusion, ‘tell lil ignorant me why they don’t get along. They look a whole lot alike to me, in their ways, I mean.’
‘Lil ignorant you’s asked the question and answered it,’ Dusty grinned. ‘You never saw the two biggest bulls in a herd get along together, did you?’
‘Not until they’d locked horns and got to know who was best,’ Waco admitted. ‘Hey! You don’t reckon Miss Freddie and Buffalo Kate’ll lock horns, do you?’
‘I hope not, boy,’ Dusty replied with feeling. ‘I surely hope not. Go find Frank Derringer and send him up here.’
Neither of the saloon checks proved more than Dusty already knew in one case and guessed in the other, that both Freddie and Kate ran straight games and relied solely on the house’s percentage to give them their profit.
A party of townsmen arrived to lend Kate’s workers a hand in setting up the saloon ready for opening in the evening. Although Kate did not learn the fact until much later, it had been Freddie who suggested that the men lent a hand at making their new fellow-citizen welcome.
One word from Freddie would have blasted Buffalo Kate’s chances of success, but the word did not come out. Freddie knew she had a serious rival in business and aimed to try to lick the more experienced woman on their mutual ground without taking advantage of her civic position or social popularity.
Although Freddie had brought in one of the best known and most popular acts which played the Southern States, she would have been willing to close for the Saturday night and let Buffalo Kate’s opening go unchallenged. However, on Freddie’s return from the meeting with the trail bosses—after making satisfactory arrangements for the Sunday entertainment—she met Buffalo Kate. Words were exchanged and as a result Freddie determined to open and teach Kate a lesson.
‘Let the battle commence!’ she said as she entered the Fair Lady.
Although Kate drew in some trade, the bulk went to Freddie despite the novelty of the blonde’s opening night. The drawing power of Freddie’s star act pulled in Texans like iron filings to a magnet. At just over midnight, with the saloon closed, Buffalo Kate checked her takings and looked at her head bartender.
‘That gal’s going to make things tough,’ she said in an admiring tone. ‘Yes sir, Wally, we’ve a fight on our hands here. If she wants war, by cracky, she’s going to get it.’
The bartender nodded his agreement. One thing he figured out, that limey gal might be good, but he sure couldn’t see her licking his boss.
To off-set boredom and the accompanying chance for the devil to find work that idle hands might do, Dusty and Freddie, with the agreement and support of the local preacher, had arranged a series of contests for the various cowhands and outfits in and around town. Several unbroken horses were obtained to try out riding skill; a course complete with a number of jumps laid out for horse races; a range rigged to allow the running of shooting matches. For a day the cowhands would be entertaining the local citizens and everybody looked forward to this pleasant change. The cowhands felt pleased with a chance to show off their skills and the townsfolk anticipated seeing some of the things they read of cowhands doing in the course of their range work.
With the exception of Mark, who volunteered to run the office, Dusty had all his deputies on hand to keep an eye on the way things went. They were told to mingle with the crowd, watch out for illicit liquor selling and any attempts at gambling. In one way the idea was excellent; yet it also gave an indirect cause to the saloon feud being resumed when for a time it seemed that the affair might fade and be forgotten.
Having heard much of Freddie’s work in establishing and handling the town, Buffalo Kate was a good enough sport to admit the English girl had something and so greeted her affably enough when they met. For her part Freddie was willing to be friends and introduced Kate to the leading civic dignitaries.
The dove of peace let out a sigh of content and glided down to land, then—
‘Hello there, handsome!’
Turning, Waco looked at the speaker by his side. She was a small, shapely and very pretty red-headed girl. From her clothes Waco figured her to be a saloon worker but had an uneasy feeling that he could not remember seeing her at either the Fair Lady or the Wooden Spoon. Which same meant she must come from the Buffalo.
‘Say, you’re cute,’ the girl went on. ‘You must be the handsome young one the girls told me about. My name’s Ginger.’
‘And mine’s Babsy,’ hissed a voice from Waco’s other side.
‘So what?’ Ginger asked, eyeing Babsy up and down in contempt.
‘So Waco’s my boyfriend, that’s what!’
Although he had never sat on a keg of gunpowder with a burning fuse running to it, Waco discovered how one would feel while doing so. The two pretty little girls, alike in height and shape, glared at each other like a pair of cats on a back-alley fence.
You foreigners haven’t any right to come over here grabbing our men!’Ginger spat out.
‘Foreigner!’ squealed Babsy, for to her insular British mind no matter where in the world she might be it was always the other folk who were the foreigners. ‘I’ll do some hair-grabbing, not man-grabbing!’
‘So grab away!’ Ginger challenged, clenching her fists.
For once in his life Waco did not know what to do for the best. Neither girl gave him a second glance and a crowd gathered in a circle around them, grinning in eager anticipation. A hair-yanking brawl between a couple of pretty and real lively-looking little girls would add spice and make memorable the day’s entertainment; and those two looked like they would put up a humdinger of a battle.
Only it did not come to a fight.
A hand caught Babsy’s hand even as the little girl prepared to light down on Ginger with flying fists.
‘That’s enough, Babsy!’ Freddie snapped in a carrying voice. ‘I realize you were provoked, but one has to expect that sort of thing from their kind.’
‘Easy, Ginger!’ ordered Kate, glowering at Freddie and also raising her voice. ‘You don’t want to let that sort bother you.’
The white dove of peace flapped wearily back into the sky; it figured it would not be needed around Mulrooney for a spell.
Girls from both saloons mingled in the watching crowd and the situation had explosive overtones. One wrong move would see an unholy, scrapping tangle that could involve everybody around. Dusty saw that as he came through the crowd, shoving a path through despite of the fact that many taller men stood in his way.
‘Come on, Waco,’ Babsy said.
‘Let’s go see the horse races, handsome,’ Ginger put in.
Dusty took the matter out of Waco’s hands.
‘Go relieve Mark at the jail, boy,’ he ordered. ‘Miss Freddie, would you and Babsy go start the horse races? And I’d like you and Ginger to help the judges on the finishing line and hand out the prizes to the winners, Miss Kate.’
Once again the two women were handed a face-saver that prevented them taking the matter beyond the point of no return. Freddie and Kate led off their fuming employees and the crowd broke up.
‘Dang females!’ Waco snorted. ‘I’ll never understand women.’
‘Boy,’ Dusty replied. ‘They do say that’s a common complaint among men.’
For the rest of the afternoon, while the cowhand sporting events went on, Dusty and his deputies kept on the move. Freddie and Kate’s girls glared at each other whenever they met and only by keeping constantly on the alert did Dusty’s deputies maintain peace. One thing worried Dusty at first; his female deputy might be expected to show partisanship to her friends of the Fair Lady. In this he did not need to worry for Freddie’s orders to Big Sarah had been definite and the big woman would not think of disobeying. So Sarah let her fellow-workers know that in the matter of inter-saloon rivalry she aimed to stay neutral and do her duty as an officer of the law. When the girls took a complaint to Freddie, she told them straight that Sarah’s actions met with her complete approval and there the matter ended.
A tired and not entirely unhappy group of peace officers gathered in the jail that evening.
‘Man!’ said the Kid in a heart-felt manner. ‘I sure never want another day like that again.’
‘Or me,’ Big Sarah groaned, removing her shoes. ‘I thought we’d have some real bad trouble once or twice.’
‘It was rough on you having to go against your pards like that,’ Dusty remarked. ‘Thanks, Sarah.’
‘Don’t thank me,’ she grinned. ‘It’s not over yet, cap’n. There’s going to be a tangle between Miss Freddie and that Buffalo Kate and when it comes, it’ll make the battle at Bearcat Annie’s in Quiet Town look like a Sunday-school picnic.’
Recalling the famous battle in Bearcat Annie’s saloon; when three women deputies slugged it out with the saloonkeeper and her girls, allowing the male members of the law to slip into the saloon unnoticed; Dusty nodded his agreement. He, too, could see trouble ahead and figured that when it finally blew—man, it would blow like a Texas twister.