Waco's Badge (14 page)

“Now that's better, you bums!” Franks asserted, refusing to allow himself to be distracted by the far from unattractive sight presented by the two all but naked girls and retaining the accent he had adopted. “Not that doing it's going to help you one way or the other. We've been paid to kill you.”

“T—To
kill
us?” Thomas O'Carroll yelled, with Fiona, Martin and the other male Summer Com
plaints vocally registering an equal alarm at the prospect although neither he nor they made any attention to rise.

“Nobody has any reason to pay you for killing us!” Sarah claimed, no less perturbed than her companions, yet keeping her outward appearance under control.

“You try telling the jasper who owns the next ranch that he hasn't,” Franks countered. “He was figuring on buying this one and it got him riled as all hell when you snuck in ahead of him to get it.”

“Why didn't he make us an offer for it?” Sarah inquired, more to gain time in which to try to think of a way out of the predicament than through any real desire to learn the reason.

“He figured, happen he did, you'd heft up the price,” the Easterner explained. “So he concluded it'd be a sight cheaper to pay us boys to drop in and gun you down like it was done in a robbery.”

“We—We've got money here—!” Dennis Orme croaked.

“S—Sure we have!” Stanley Crowther supported in a quavering falsetto squeak, waving a hand at the table top. “T—Take it all and let us l—live!”

“Why that wouldn't be right 'n' honest by the gent who's hired us,” Franks answered. “'Specially for the chicken-shit you've got there.”

“Th—Th—There's a lot more you can have!” Kenneth Alan Taylor offered and the other male Summer Complaints nodded agreement.

“Tell your boss that we'll sell!” Sarah snapped, glaring at the men with a mixture of anger and disgust for their cowardice.

“Oh sure!” Franks scoffed. “And lose all that good pay he's going to give us for killing you off?” He paused and glanced around the table, then continued, “Rufe, start with that son-of-a-bitch with the swelled up nose!”

“Yo!” Waco responded, the single syllable word offering no clue as to his place of origin.

“N—No!” Orme squealed, rising as the masked blond walked toward him cocking the staghorn handled Artillery Peacemaker. “N—No! For god's sake, Sarah! Give them the money from the hold—!”

“How much do you want to leave us alive?” the taller girl asked, before her former opponent could complete his suggestion.

“We come high,” Franks warned.

“How high?” Sarah said sourly.

“Five thousand dollars ought to do it,” the Easterner decided. “With what's on the table, that is.”

“We don't—!” Sarah began.

“Kill him!” Franks ordered.

“No!” Orme screamed and lunged across the table with his hands reaching for the taller girl. “Give it to them, you ‘mother-something' bull-dyke!”

Shoving back her chair, Sarah rose before the panic stricken man could touch her. Throwing a look of disgust at him as he sprawled face down on the pile of clothing she had been gathering after winning the
pot, she gave a sigh of resignation and said in a bitter voice, “I'll fetch it for them, but don't start whining at me for doing it.”

“Go and watch her, Jesse!” Franks instructed. “And keep this in mind, Big Apples,
¹
should you try anything sneaky, we'll cut down every last son-of-a-bitch here and both of you gals, after we've done funning with you.”

“Do just what they tell you!” Crowley commanded, although—knowing the taller of the girls—the words sounded closer to pleading.

With the other poker players reiterating the advice, Sarah walked dejectedly away from the table. Followed by Doc, who halted in the doorway, she went into the bedroom she shared with Fiona except when giving her favors to one of the men. Taking the key from inside her pillow, she pulled a small strongbox from beneath the bed and unfastened it. Raising the lid, her eyes went to the Merwin & Hulbert Army Pocket revolver on top of the money. However, knowing it would not serve her purpose, she made no attempt to reach for it.

“Five thousand, wasn't it?” the girl asked, turning her head.

“Back off and stand facing the corner,” Doc answered, putting a snarling timber to his voice and raising it to a higher than normal pitch.

For a moment, Sarah thought of grabbing for the
revolver. Then, once again, common sense overcame the desire. She knew that, although she might—in fact, probably would—kill the man in the doorway, the other two were sure to get her. Certainly she could not rely upon any of her companions, with the possible exception of Fiona, risking a similar fate to come to her assistance. Yielding to the inevitable, she did as she had been told. Halting in the corner, she stood looking over her shoulder. She was seething with impotent rage as she watched Doc removing and tucking the money into the front of his shirt. It was obvious he was not counting it to obtain the sum agreed upon, nor had she expected him to. When he had removed all the contents, he backed out of the room with the Merwin & Hulbert dangling in his left hand. Following him, she found all her companions had been sent to stand facing the wall farthest from the table and the other two masked men were pocketing the not inconsiderable amount of money which had remained on it.

“Was there enough for us?” Franks inquired.

“And more,” Doc confirmed, deliberately keeping his response brief in spite of using the assumed tone.

“Let's go then,” the Easterner instructed. “I don't reckon, dressed so fancy, any of you good folks will be figuring on rushing straight out after us. But, happen you get the notion to start shooting our way as we're pulling out, I wouldn't was I you. If you do, we'll come back and burn this place down 'round your ears.”

“Well,” Waco said, as he and his companions reached their waiting horses without there having been any hostile reaction from the house. “We've got a fair piece of the loot back. Which same, afore anybody tells me, we can't prove's how it is the loot. So we'll just have to count on them going after some more, the same way they got it.”

“
M'
SIEUR LE
COWBOY FROM
T
EXAS, WILL YOU PLEASE
carry my baggage to ze best hotel for me,
veuillez
?”

Hearing the words in a feminine voice which could only be directed at him, Waco turned from where he was pretending to read a notice on the board by the front door of Arizona State Stage Line's depot in Phoenix. Although they had been uttered with a strong suggestion of a French accent, there was something about the voice which struck him as familiar. Wondering why this should be, he ran his gaze over the speaker as she descended with the aid of the shotgun messenger out of the stagecoach from Tucson which had just arrived.

Such were the alterations Belle Starr had made to
her appearance since they last met, it took the young blond a couple of seconds' close scrutiny to identify her!

Not only had the lady outlaw changed the blonde wig for one of black hair held in a chignon, discarded the gold-rimmed spectacles—worn to establish her character in Tucson and also vary her appearance from the last occasion when she had met Waco
¹
—and stained her skin an olive brown pigmentation, but she was clad in a much more eye-catching and colorful fashion. No longer was she attempting, or rather giving the pretense of attempting, to hide her magnificent figure. The travelling costume she had on was revealing to the point of being risqué. What was more, much expensive looking jewellery glinted and glistened ostentatiously on her ears, neck, wrists and hands.

“Why it'd surely be a pleasure, ma'am,” the blond asserted truthfully, controlling his surprise as well as the lady outlaw had expected would be the case and also justifying her confidence in his intelligence by giving no sign that they were acquainted. “Just point her out when she's took off and I'll tote her where-all ever you want.”

“You will be most careful with them,
m'sieur,
won't you?” Belle asked, pointing to the two expensive looking brown leather portmanteau which the
driver was removing from the rear boot of the vehicle and placing upon the sidewalk with much greater care than was usually the case with his unloading. “The rest of my jewellery is in them, as is the five thousand dollars I have brought for travelling money.”

“You're toting
five thousand dollars
around, ma'am?” Waco inquired, noticing the words had been uttered far louder than might be considered advisable if such a sum was in the portmanteau.

“But doesn't
everybody
?” the lady outlaw countered.

“
I
for sure
don't,
ma'am!” the young Texan declared, also speaking louder than was necessary. Glancing along the sidewalk while picking up and discovering that the bulky portmanteau were heavy enough to be well filled, he went on in no quieter a tone, “Fact being, I've never even seen a whole five thousand dollars in one pile.”

“I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw you as the stage was coming in,” Belle stated, in a much lower tone and resuming her normal Southern drawl, as she and Waco were walking away from the depot. “And I'm really pleased to see you.”

“Now it's real pleasurable to hear you say so,” the blond drawled. “'Cause this's the
second
time it's been said to me in less'n a week.”

“I suppose there has to be a
first
time for
everything,
” the lady outlaw smiled. “Are Mark, Dusty and Lon with you?”

“Just Doc,” Waco admitted. “And I'd bet all I've got in my pocket against your five thousand dollars
in these bags I can guess why you'd be wanting
Dusty and Lon
to be around.”

“Go ahead,” Belle challenged, without needing to ask why the first name she had used was not included.

“You're here looking to say, ‘Howdy, you-all' to the gal who's been trying to make folks think you and ‘your gang' robbed the stage between Red Rock and Marana,” Waco assessed. “Which I reckon Blue Duck and Sammy Crane must be counting themselves real important, being part of your ‘gang.' Don't you have them around?”

“Not hereabouts,” Belle admitted. “You know, much as I hate to admit it, I always knew you were smart. But I didn't know you ran to second sight.”

“How's that?”

“Weren't you waiting for me to arrive?”

“I can't come right out truthful' and say ‘yes' to that. I was watching that yahoo dressed up so he reckons everybody'll mistake him for a cowhand as's dogging along our trail.”

“He walks more like one of those strange little men who think they're girls,” the lady outlaw commented, having halted so as to convey the impression she was looking into the window of the shop they were passing. In reality, she had studied Dennis Orme for a few seconds and also the street beyond him. “But I doubt if that's why you find him so interesting.”

“You doubt
right,
” Waco replied. “I only like gals when they are gals.”

“Then what is your interest in him?” Belle wanted to know.

“Could be the same's you'll have in him,” the blond asserted with confidence, as Belle and he started walking once more. “Have I won my bet?”

“You have,” the lady outlaw confirmed and all the levity had left her voice. “I don't take kindly to having some god-damned lobby-Lizzie trying to have
me
blamed for crimes
she's
doing.”

Which was true enough!

However, there was another reason for Belle to be hunting the gang who had robbed the stagecoach!

Having accompanied Pierre Henri Jaqfaye to his shop, the lady outlaw had had her supposition confirmed that he was far more than appeared on the surface. Although his sexual proclivities were more masculine than his behavior suggested, he had made no attempt to prove the fact. Instead, he had been all business and proved he was very competent in his—at least on the surface—subsidiary business. Admitting frankly he was an important member of an organization planning to control all criminal activity first in Arizona Territory and then, if successful, throughout the United States, he had explained how their ambitions had been placed in jeopardy by the indiscrete behavior of Senator Paul Michael Twelfinch II. Pointing out how she could be endangered by the woman pretending to be her while robbing the stagecoach, particularly as a passenger was murdered, he had asked what she intended to do
about the situation. On being informed that she meant to go in search of her rival, he had asked if she would find out what happened to and, if possible, retrieve the incriminating pocketbook. She was not in favor of the aims of his organization, suspecting these could threaten the independence of people like herself, but the renumeration she had been offered added to a desire to clear her name had led her to agree.

Having had her specialized requirements satisfied—the clothing and expensive looking jewellery being produced by the Frenchman from his stock—and being promised a free hand, Belle had made her plans. Knowing their presence might inadvertantly give her away, she had telegraphed Blue Duck and Sammy Crane in a simple code, telling them to go into hiding until she contacted them. Then she had booked a seat on the next stagecoach from Tucson to Phoenix. Although she had been supplied with the little information available to Jaqfaye, lacking the added details which had become known to the Texans and Jedroe Franks, her instincts and knowledge of criminals had led her to assume the State Capital would offer the best starting point for her quest.

As she had said, on her arrival from Tucson, the lady outlaw had seen a potential ally in whatever lay ahead. Nor had she doubted that Waco would offer his services, which was why she had asked him to carry her baggage. In fact, she had already heard enough to believe he was in the State Capital engaged upon a similar mission to her own. The prospect was
most satisfying to her. Until the meeting, she had been undecided as to what action she would take if she succeeded in locating the gang. With him by her side, she would not need to wait until she could send for her two men to join her.

Yet, despite knowing that—being a very close
amigo
of the only man who had ever and would ever have her love
²
—the young Texan was completely trustworthy and would never divulge anything he heard, Belle had a code of conduct by which she lived and it precluded her from telling him of the organization. For all that, in the not too distant future, he would play a major part in its downfall without needing any assistance or information from her.
³

“Well now, could just be you've made a start at finding her already,” Waco drawled. “Trouble being, you looking so fancy and talking about the money you've just lost to me, you've got more than one feller on your trail.”

“You mean that loudly dressed, red faced dude across the street,” asked the lady outlaw, having noticed more than Orme while conducting her examination.

“Why sure,” the blond confirmed, grinning in admiration. “'Cepting, 'though he looks and talks like he's from lil ole New York seeing's how he hails from thereabouts, and isn't dressed so quiet and tasteful as some of us good ole Texas boys, he's
segundo
of a pretty fair-sized spread—as such are judged in
Arizona.
”

“And he's a friend of yours?”

“He's got that honor—Happen ‘honor's' the word you'd use.”

“I
wouldn't,
” Belle said dryly, finding herself unable to resist falling into the kind of banter which frequently passed between the members of Ole Devil Hardin's floating outfit no matter how grave the situation. “But don't stop telling it so
modestly
!”

“He's Pete Glendon,” Waco obliged. “Only we're no so close
amigos
as I made it sound, seeing's I haven't found a chance for us to make
habla.
Was I asked, though, I'd reckon he's after pretty much what we are.”

“Do you mind if I ask why you think that way?”

“No, ma'am.”

“All right then!” the lady outlaw was compelled to say when no information was forthcoming. “Why?—And just you wait until the next time I see Betty Hardin. You know how us girls stand together.”

“You wouldn't do nothing so ornery 'n' mean's to set her on my trail?” Waco asked, in well simulated horror, being aware of how effectively Elizabeth “Betty” Hardin could deal with those who she felt had not behaved in a satisfactory fashion.
⁴
“Not that I'm scared, mind—!”

“‘Dear Betty,' my letter will start—!” Belle claimed, sounding ominous.

“Calf rope, ma'am!” the blond responded, making the traditional cowhand expression of surrender. “Like I said, not that I'm scared mind, but here-all's how I read the sign.”

“You've done well,” the lady outlaw praised, after the Texan had told of what had happened since Doc Leroy and he had belatedly become involved in the holdup of the stagecoach. “But is that man following us, the trying-to-be cowhand, I mean, the ‘woman' who led the gang?”

“Nope, just one of the lil Injuns,” Waco corrected. “The big chief's a
woman
sure as you are and, unless I'm missing my guess, a pretty smart one.”

“I'm looking forward to meeting her,” Belle stated. “Where is she at?”

“Right here in town,” the blond replied. “Fact being, 'most all the gang are around and about. Which I'm real relieved they are.”

“Why?”

“Way we took all that money from them, I got to figuring after we'd done it the fool way
Doc
picked out, there was a chance we'd throwed such a scare into them's they'd head back East so fast you'd reckon their butts was burning. Which isn't what you'd be wanting.”

“I want my fingers in her hair!” Belle said savagely.

“Was I all mean and ornery, like
some
as's close by,” Waco drawled. “I'd keep quiet and let you go ahead unknowing. But, being all noble, forgiving and good—!”

“Betty Hardin!” the lady outlaw reminded.

“Natured,” the blond continued, as if the interruption had not happened. “I'll just say you'd best watch her real good while you're doing said grabbing hold. Doc and me got there just too late to see it, but Jed told us she's a better'n fair hand at fisticuffs.”

“Fisticuffs?”

“They get into what's called a ‘boxing ri—'!”

“I know what ‘fisticuffs' are, but do you mean
she
does?”

“She whomped that yahoo following us real good, way Jed told it,” Waco explained. “And, when we bluffed them into handing over the money, it was her that all those knobheads turned to for it.”

“I'll keep it in mind, should we lock horns,” Belle promised, knowing she had received a genuine warning. “Where is she?”

“Working at the Cattleman's Hotel, along of the lil blonde gal's runs with her pack,” Waco supplied. “One of the men's there, as well, playing like a guest.”

“Do you think we could persuade some of them that confession is good for the soul?” the lady outlaw inquired, having considerable respect for the judgment of the young cowhand as she knew him to be far shrewder than his levity suggested was the case.

“Likely, seeing's how Lon's taught me some of his Grandpappy Long Walker's Comanch' tricks and you've likely learned a few from those part-Indian boys of your'n,” Waco guessed. “Least-wise, we
could get at least some of the
hombres
and most likely the lil blonde gal talking—to us. Trouble being, some god-damned law-twisting son-of-a-b—gun might tell whichever it was to say they was lying 'cause they was scared when they got into court and it'd only be our word against their'n. Which I don't reckon
you'd
be wanting to get into the witness stand, comes to that.”