“LOOKS LIKE MR. Eardle’s expecting us coming,” the Ysabel Kid reported, having returned on foot from making a reconnaissance of the AW ranch’s property. “Which ain’t too surprising, considering what his yahoos tried to do back in Child City.”
Because of the concern that had been felt by Stone Hart over what might happen when he heard his wife went to carry out the meeting to which she was invited, he had arranged with Waggles Harrison to keep a couple of men standing near enough to the front entrance of the Arizona State Saloon to be able to hear any shooting. On being told that the boss lady could be in trouble, the members of the Wedge crew had wasted no time in collecting their horses—the animals having been calmed down by their users after Thorny Bush was compelled to defend himself against Skinny McBride—and setting off to investigate. Just as determined to find out what had happened, Steffie Willis had accompanied them on the back of her husband’s mount.
Not unexpectedly, the sound of the gunplay at the ruined mission had attracted attention from some Child City citizens. However, such was the speed at which being mounted allowed Stone’s group to get there that the selection of the men who were to accompany Dusty Fog in his proposed visit to the AW ranch was made before any members of the community arrived.
Carrying lanterns to supply illumination, which the Texans had not, among the first on the scene had been Counselor Edward Sutherland and the local doctor. Soon after, also bringing means of coping with the darkness, Egbert Eustace Eisteddfod had put in an appearance. He was accompanied by some of the citizens who had been with him at the civic meeting before the disturbance in front of the saloon. Though he remained in the background, on a couple of occasions he could be heard repeating his assertion that such a thing had never happened before in the town and that its future could be affected adversely. However, from what Dusty had seen, there had not seemed to be any great feelings on the subject aroused among the other citizens one way or the other.
On their way to help play a part in investigating the disturbance, the lawyer and the doctor had been informed by Becky Reeves that neither her husband nor Deputy Burt Alvord would be available to conduct an inquiry into the cause of the gunplay. On reaching the ruined mission, stating that his officially appointed position as justice of the peace required him to act in behalf of Sheriff Amon Reeves, the lawyer had set about doing so with commendable efficiency. In fact, Dusty thought he did so with a skill many a peace officer would have admired.
After ordering everybody not directly concerned to stand back and asking the doctor to examine the two shapes sprawled unmoving on the ground, Sutherland ascertained that Margaret Stone was neither injured nor in any other way distressed by what had happened. Then he asked her the reason for her being at the mission. Listening to her explanation, the small Texan was pleased by the acumen she displayed.
Margaret said she had been asked to come to the place to have a meeting with a woman who wanted to tell her something of considerable importance to herself and her husband. She told how she knew that Stone was involved in the traditional celebrations with the crew for the end of a successful trail drive and had not wanted to have him leave them. Therefore, having accepted that to go alone might be inadvisable, she agreed to allow the Rio Hondo gun wizard to accompany her. Omitting any mention of the important part she had played, she claimed that it had been entirely by Dusty’s own efforts that the attempt to capture her was thwarted and two of the participants shot. Sutherland remarked that the small Texan had been fortunate enough to hit the pair fatally in the darkness, then was told that Waggles Harrison—who went with the doctor—had identified one of the pair as being among the hard cases led by Jeremy Korbin. But he disclaimed any knowledge of the other beyond assuming he was a half-breed, declared that the matter could not be taken any further until the following morning, and suggested that the crowd disperse.
Accepting what amounted to a dismissal from a man for whom the majority of them had considerable respect, the local people had shown no hesitation before taking their departure. Left with just the Texans, the doctor having gone to brief the town’s undertaker, Sutherland showed his shrewd nature by requesting that he be told what had not been said so far. After hearing the full story and what was intended to be done, he had said he felt the actions justified and that he supported Stone’s stipulation that there be no shooting at the AW ranch unless it was unavoidable.
Dusty and his party had experienced no particular difficulty arriving in the vicinity of their destination. Calling a halt while they were still sufficiently far from the ranch house to prevent their presence being detected, Dusty had sent the Kid ahead to carry out a reconnaissance and was just receiving a report of what had been discovered.
“Sounds like the son of a bitch got word of what happened and is fixing not to get catched out when we come looking for evens,” Thorny Bush declared in an angry tone on hearing what was said by the Ysabel Kid.
“There’s something I don’t cotton on to about it, Dusty,” the black-dressed Texan asserted, paying no attention to the youngster’s outburst beyond assuming that it was caused by anger arising from the respect he felt for Margaret. “From what I saw, none of the fellers standing watch stack up as being paid pistoleros. They look ’n’ act more like saints than hired guns who know what’s real likely to come off.”
“I’ve said all along that all the AM’s I’ve met up with struck me as being saints,” Waggles Harrison declared, the word “saint” used in such a context meaning an honest cowhand. “Which being, I go along with the boss about us doing all we can to avoid having to do any killing.”
“Given Lon’s right—for once in his sinful life and unlikely as it might be,” Dusty Fog drawled, although certain his very competent amigo had formed an accurate assessment, “there’s none of us want any.” Waiting until the murmurs of concurrence—in which Bush joined, remembering the amiable time spent in the company of the AW’s cowhands on his first visit to Child City—died away, he went on, “Let’s hear how the land lies, so we can figure how to play out the hand.”
Using the light of a bull’s-eye lantern brought along for the purpose and a piece of ground laid bare by a bowie knife borrowed from Peaceful Gunn, the Indian-dark Texan produced a sketch of the layout around the ranch house and marked where each of the four guards he had located were positioned. Although the illustration did not come up to the standard a professional cartographer could have produced on a workbench, Dusty was convinced from long experience that it would be sufficiently accurate to be adequate for his needs.
Knowing their ability to perform the task, the small dusty-blond gave the duty of dealing with the guards to the Kid, Dude, Silent, and Peaceful. While they were carrying it out—in silence, if the plan was to succeed without causing blood to be spilled—the rest of the party would move in also on foot, ready to carry out the instructions they received. Listening to the way the orders were given, the segundo of the Wedge formed a better impression than ever of the way in which Captain Fog had performed his military duties as commanding officer of the Texas Light Cavalry’s Company C during the War Between the States. Waggles concluded that if the present enterprise was not carried out as his boss required, it would not be for a lack of organization or because the men given the most important part were unable to perform in the manner called for.
“Is everybody satisfied?” Dusty asked at the conclusion of his description and, receiving a response indicating that this was so, he went on, “All right, boys, let’s go get her done!”
It was testimony to the ability of the men selected by Dusty Fog that the subduing of the guards around the AW ranch house was accomplished in the necessary silence. Before any of them could realize the danger, much less attempt to raise an alarm, they were struck down and rendered unconscious by blows from a bowie knife’s hilt or the butt of a Colt. To make sure there would be no outcry should any of them recover prematurely, each had his wrists and ankles secured by the pigging thongs, which their assailants had brought along for the purpose, and each was gagged by his own bandanna. A series of well-simulated calls such as would be made by a whippoorwill announced the completion of the task to the rest of the party, who advanced with much the same caution that had been shown by their four companions. When all were gathered close to the buildings, without further instructions they made ready to carry on with the parts assigned to them.
Leaving the remainder of the party to do as Dusty had directed, which was to take up positions from which the rest of the AW’s crew could be prevented from coming out of the bunkhouse, the three members of Ole Devil’s floating outfit went to play their part in the raid. Their destination the main building, they had already determined how they would effect an entrance so as to take the occupants by surprise. It was a system they had employed often enough in the past to be convinced it would serve their needs on this occasion.
Crossing the porch with silent steps, the trio halted before the front entrance. Drawing their guns and cocking the hammers, Dusty, Mark, and the Kid waited until they were sure the rest of the raiding party were ready. Satisfied upon that point, the blond giant prepared to take measures that had been decided would obtain their admittance regardless of whether or not the door was locked. Although the other two had used similar methods when their larger and heavier amigo had not been available, they knew he was much better equipped physically to perform the task under the prevailing conditions. Nor did either of them expect that he would fail to justify their confidence.
Swinging his right foot forward with all the power of his two-hundred-and-thirty-pound frame behind it, Mark sent its sole crashing into the door at the point where experience had taught him the impact would do most good. xxvi
There was a sudden crack and the door burst inward. If the ease with which this happened was any indication, the door had not been locked. With entry obtained, the Texans went through in a way that suggested it had been learned from a well-trained peace officer. Passing the blond giant, then going to the right and left practically simultaneously, Dusty and the Kid swung their respective armament in an arc, ready to deal with any opposition. Bringing down’ the foot that had gained them admission, Mark followed—like the small Texan, a Colt in each hand.
There were enough indications from the bunkhouse for Waggles to conclude that the noise caused by the forced entry to the main building had been heard.
“Jimmy Conlin!” the segundo yelled with a volume Silent Churchman would have been hard put to beat. “This’s Waggles Harrison from Wedge. We’ve got all the doors ’n’ windows covered, so you ’n’ your boys stay put and peaceable until we find out just what the hell’s been going on hereabouts just recent’.”
“We’ve got bunkies out there,” the foreman of the AW replied. His voice betrayed puzzlement mingled with anxiety. “How about them?”
“None’s been hurt bad,” Waggles assured, realizing that a man such as he assumed Conlin to be would be concerned on that point. Then he had an inspiration and went on, “You willing to let me come in and tell you what’s brought this on?”
“Come ahead and you can walk out when you’ve done regardless,” the foreman authorized. “Because I sure as hell want to know what’s coming off hereabouts.”
What the segundo had proposed had not been part of the instructions he had received.
Looking around, Dusty Fog discovered that he and his companions had entered what must be the main dining room. Only two occupants were present—a man and a woman. Tall and burly, the man had a strong yet not hard or brutal face, close-cropped graying hair, and a military bearing that showed even though he was dressed in a civilian fashion. An expression that mixed surprise and anger came to his features as he sent his chair skidding from beneath him and started to thrust himself erect.
There was, the small Texan concluded, something vaguely familiar about the woman, who had also come to her feet. She was perhaps five feet eight in height and no longer in the first flush of youth, though there was nothing about her beautiful face to suggest how old she might be. She had blond hair in a style that was neat without being fussy. She was dressed in good clothing of a style to be expected in such a setting; the garments could not conceal a shapely figure, nor did they blatantly show it off. However, most noticeable to the small Texan was her response to the entry made by his party. Although she had begun by showing alarm, for some reason the expression appeared to be changing.
“Forget it, Wils!” the woman snapped when the man showed signs of trying to reach the Colt Peacemaker lying on top of the sidepiece. “You didn’t save me from a life of sin to get me made a widow when there’s no cause.” Then her gaze swung toward the Texans, and she continued in a tone that came as a surprise to them, “Didn’t I have enough damned trouble with you three, what with getting all those calluses on my butt riding Libby Schell’s wagon and dishpan hands from helping her feed you? At least in those days you had the good manners to take your hats off when coming into a lady’s presence. Well, two of you, anyways.”
Listening to the advice given by his wife and what followed, Wilson Eardle was prey to the same emotions that were being felt by Dusty. Her reference to having been saved from a life of sin would only have been made because she knew the three Texans were aware of her past and would not hold it, or try to use it, against her. Before she married, she had worked in saloons. However, for several years her work had been in a supervisory capacity, and while she had admitted frankly before accepting his proposal that there had been other men in her life, she was not promiscuous, nor had what passed between them ever been thought by either party to be on a permanent basis. Therefore, she had not been in need of salvation from the way she made her living.
Eardle had another point to consider. The precaution of having guards posted had come about as the result of some disturbing information he had received from Child City in the afternoon. Despite the way in which the three Texans had burst in, it reminding him of the system he had seen employed by peace officers when making an entrance to a room where dangerous criminals were to be expected, there was nothing in their appearance to suggest that they had come for the reason he suspected in light of what he had been told. In fact, although their clothing was somewhat travel-stained—that of the Kid more so than the others—they struck him as being visitors he would not have hesitated to receive had they arrived at any other time.
“Well, if this doesn’t get a man all kissed off against the cushion!” Mark Counter exclaimed, staring at the woman with a look of recognition similar to that being exhibited by Dusty and the Kid. “You’re April Hosman!”
“You should have been damned when you was younger, just like that no-account handsome daddy Ranse of yours who you don’t feature a mite more than two peas in a pod except in the first,” the woman replied, her tone and demeanor implying that she had had wide experience in dealing with men and was competent to stand on her own feet in their company. “But it’s Mrs. April Eardle now, and that was my front door you booted open instead of knocking.”
“I’m sorry about that, Apr—Mrs. Eardle, ma’am,” Dusty declared, twirling his bone-handled guns back into their holsters. “Only, the way things looked, we thought coming in like we did was called for.”
“I had some of the boys out standing guard—!” Wilson Eardle began.
“By the Lord, Dusty Fog!” April snapped, losing her air of mocking affability, but once again her gaze was mainly directed at the Kid. “If any of them are hurt—!”
“Just sore heads or jaws, at most,” the small Texan asserted.
“Stone Hart told us he wanted that should be the way of it,” the Kid went on with the air of one wishing to find exculpation from a false accusation. Then his voice hardened and all the amiable innocence left his Indian-dark features. “Which I thought was mighty easy-going of him after those yahoos Dusty stopped had tried to lay hold of his lady wife. There’s some’s’d’ve got more than a mite riled and uncaring about a thing like that.”
“Lay hold of—?” Eardle began, his face showing a total lack of comprehension.
“I reckon this needs talking out,” Dusty claimed. “Only, before we start, Mr. Eardle, I’d be obliged if you’d go tell your hands down to the bunkhouse to stay put inside, being I’ve told the Wedge crew to keep them there.”
“Do it, Wils!” April requested, but in a tone her husband knew meant she intended to have her wish respected. “And, like I said before, you three take those hats off under my roof. I thought between us Libby Schell and I had taught you better manners than that.” xxvii
While the Texans were carrying out the order given by the blonde and her husband was preparing to carry out the request made by Dusty, they heard hurried footsteps approaching. However, as there had been no commotion from outside the building, none of them considered the matter a cause for alarm. Nor was it. Waggles and Conlin came in with a haste implying that there was something they regarded as being of the greatest importance to be imparted.
“From what Jimmy’s just told me, Cap’n Fog,” the segundo of the Wedge announced without any preliminaries, “there’s a snake in the woodpile about this whole game!”
“I was just starting to get a smidgen of a notion along those lines my own self,” the Kid asserted. “There are times I’m real smart like that.”