“Sure do,” Eddie, a shorter, slightly younger version of Stan, agreed. “Say, what’ll you gals have to drink?”
“It’ll have to be beer until I’ve seen Miss Ella,” Stan warned.
“My mammy always told me never to look a gift-beer in the froth,” replied Calamity.
“Lord, ain’t she a pistol?” whooped Eddie. “I’ll buy ’em until you get your money off Miss Ella.”
A frown creased Stan’s face as he glared at his brother. “You hold your voice down, you hear me, boy?”
“I hear you,” Eddie answered, dropping his voice. “Hell, these gals are all right, Stan.”
“Sure we are,” agreed Calamity. “First thing a gal learns working in a saloon is to mind her own business.”
Apparently the words mollified Stan for he started to grin again. “Sure, Marty. Only folks might get the wrong idea if they heard Eddie.”
“He’s only young yet, not like two old mossy-horns like us,” Calamity answered. “Say, do we have to stand with our tongues hanging out?”
“Huh?” grunted Stan, then started to grin and turned to the bar. “Four beers Izzy, the ladies’re getting thirsty. Say Mousey, where-at’s the boss lady?”
“Upstairs, I think,” Mousey replied.
“Just have to wait a spell then. Here, Marty, take hold and drink her down.”
The beers came and the cowhands drew up their chairs, sitting with Calamity and Mousey at a table. While drinking, Mousey and the cowhands discussed local affairs. Calamity noticed that any attempt to bring up the subject of cow stealing was met with an immediate change of subject by the cowhands. Not that she kept asking questions, but Mousey seemed to be interested as might be expected from one who had been some time in Caspar County. While Stan and Eddy cursed the departed Gooch for a cowardly, murdering skunk, neither appeared eager to discuss why he might have shot down the two Bench J cowhands. Showing surprising tact, Mousey changed the subject and told of Danny’s defeat of the Rafter O’s bay. A grin played on Calamity’s lips as she listened; it appeared that Danny Fog had been making something of a name for himself since his arrival.
“Let’s go have a dance,” Eddie suggested.
“Sure, let’s,” Mousey agreed.
Already several couples were whirling around on the open space left for dancing. Calamity, Mousey and the two cowhands joined the fun and it was well that Calamity had always been light on her feet for cowhands did not often make graceful partners. However, Calamity had long been used to keeping her toes clear of her partner’s feet when dancing and found little difficulty in avoiding Stan’s boots as they danced in something like time to the music.
Calamity saw the two buxom girls who acted as Ella’s lieutenants standing by the bar and watching her. For a moment she wondered if they might be seeing through her disguise. If she had heard their conversation, she would not have worried.
“That Marty doesn’t dance too well,” Maisie remarked.
There was a considerable rivalry between Phyl and Maisie and the red-head took the comment to be an adverse criticism of her as she took Calamity to see Ella and had her hired.
“Maybe she’s out of practice,” she answered. “
Before Maisie could think up a suitable reply, Phyl walked away. The matter dropped for neither girl felt sufficiently confident in her chances of winning to risk a physical clash that would establish who was boss.
“Hey, Phyl,” called Stan, leading Calamity from the dance floor. “Where-at’s Miss Ella?”
“She’s still up in her room, but she ought to be down soon,” Phyl answered. “You wanting to see her real bad?”
“Bad enough. We, me’n’ Eddie’s going with the boss to take a herd to Fort Williams and’ll be away for a month. I wanted to see if—well, she’ll know.”
“I’ll go up and see her,” Phyl promised.
On reaching Ella’s door, Phyl knocked and waited.
“Who is it?” Ella’s voice called.
“Phyl. It’s important.”
The door opened and Phyl entered to find Ella standing naked except for a pair of men’s levis trousers. This did not surprise the red-head for she knew that her boss had not been in the room all afternoon.
“What’s wrong?” Ella asked. “I’ve only just got back from the hideout.”
“It’s Stan, that kid from the Box Twelve. He’s down there and wanting to see you. Only he’s pulling out with a herd and won’t be back for a month.”
Ella frowned as she went to her bed and removed the pants. Knowing why Stan wished to see her, she did not care for the last piece of Phyl’s information. The cowhand had delivered ten stolen yearlings to Ella’s men and awaited payment, but she knew that if he rode out with the money her place would never profit by it.
“Who’s he with?” she asked, standing clad in her black drawers and reaching for her stockings.
“His kid brother.”
“I mean of our girls.”
“Mousey——”
“She’s no good for what I want,” Ella interrupted.
“That new gal, Marty’s, with them. Her and Mousey’s got real friendly.”
“Marty, huh? This might be a chance to find out just what she’s like.”
“Hey, that reminds me, boss,” Phyl put in. “You had an answer to that telegraph to Austin. Marty
“I thought as much,” Ella stated, drawing on her stockings. “Go down and tell Stan I’ll be in soon, and after I’ve paid him off, you can let me have a word with Marty.”
Half an hour later Ella strolled downstairs dressed in her usual work-day style and showing no sign of having sneaked out of town that afternoon, taken a long ride and not long returned from visiting the hiding place of the stolen cattle.
“Did that feller see you-all, Miss Ella?” Stan asked eagerly as she came up.
“Sure, Stan,” Ella answered and held out the envelope she carried. “Say, what’s in this?”
“Poker winnings, ma’am.”
Like the rest of the cowhands who became involved in the cow stealing, Stan believed that Ella merely acted as an innocent go-between for the hard-case Stocker who took the cattle from them. Taking the envelope, Stan opened it and extracted the money. He slipped four of the ten-dollar bills into his wallet and turned to the bar.
“You’ve been lucky,” Ella remarked, watching him thrust the wallet into his hip pocket.
“Sure have, ma’am,” Stan agreed with a grin. “This’ll sure buy us a time when we get to Fort Williams.”
“So you’re deserting us, Stan,” Ella smiled.
“Shucks, it’ll only be for a spell. Say, ma’am, can I buy you a drink?”
“I’ll take a brandy, Stan, thank you.”
“One brandy, two glasses of whisky, something for the gals and one for you, Izzy,” ordered the cowhand. “Say, when’s old Pedlar Jacobs coming up here again?”
“Don’t know, Stan,” replied the bartender. “He comes and goes. What’s up?”
“Got him a real fancy white-handled Army Colt last time he was in. I figured I might buy it. Is he a friend of your’n?”
“Not especially,” grunted the bartender and moved away to attend to another customer. One thing Izzy did not wish to discuss was his association with Jake Jacobs, particularly before his boss.
“Drink up and have another, gals,” Stan told them, ignoring the departing Izzy. “I’m just going out back.”
As Eddie elected to go along with his brother, Ella had her chance to talk with Calamity. First Ella sent Mousey off with a message for Phyl, then turned to her latest employee.
“When Stan rides off, I want you to bring me his wallet,” the saloon-keeper ordered. “And don’t try to look shocked or innocent. I heard from Austin and know why you left town.”
“Oh!” said Calamity flatly, not quite sure how she ought to react.
“You don’t need to worry about that here, either. As long as you only do it when I tell you. Go to it and lift his
