The Floating Outfit 27 Page 4

  Although they had never met, she knew him to be on friendly terms with a favorite uncle on her mother’s side and with other relations.

  While closer to her age, the beautiful Englishwoman had not previously made the acquaintance of Lord James Roxton. This was not surprising, even though they came from much the same stratum of society. From his childhood, he had accompanied his father on hunting expeditions and, more recently, had carried out explorations of his own into the jungles of South America. 17

  Try as she might, Freddie could not bring Dinglepied to mind. One thing she did know was that it was highly unlikely he had mingled with the Besgrove-Woodstoles or the Houghton-Rands. If the red tie he had on was any guide, he was one of the radicals about whom the men on both sides of her family spoke in less than complimentary terms. In which case, although she could not recollect him as being involved in any way with the men who had been responsible for her departure from England, she had found his scrutiny vaguely disturbing and decided he was one person upon whom she would be advised to keep a wary eye.

  Emerging from the entrance hall of the depot, the Englishwoman and the new arrivals were confronted by a good sized crowd. In addition to the members of the local community, who were naturally interested in men who could bring a great deal of extra business and prosperity to the town, unofficial representatives of practically all the kinds of transient population were mingling amongst them.

  Suddenly, four men thrust forward until clear of the rest of the crowd. Although their skin was Indian dark and what hair showed was black, they had on derby or higher crowned ‘tall’ bowler hats, two-piece suits of a cheap rough material and shirts without collars such as were favored in particular by railroad construction workers of Irish extraction when visiting a town for a celebration. That each had a Colt 1860 Army Model revolver tucked into the waistband of their trousers was unusual, though not unknown. However, the knives hanging on their belts were less common amongst men of the kind they were clearly supposed to be. Furthermore, their footwear was not of the heavy and stout variety which was called for by such a form of employment. In fact, two wore what were—like the sheaths of the knives—obviously moccasins of Indian manufacture and the others riding boots.

  Regardless of suggestions to that effect, the quartet were definitely not anything so innocuous as gandy dancers up to some harmless form of mischief!

  ‘Death to all capitalist exploiters!’ bellowed the shortest of the quartet in a heavily accented voice, swinging his right arm and flinging something black and round towards Freddie’s party.

  ‘It’s a bomb!’ Dinglepied screeched, jerking behind the beautiful Englishwoman.

  Already having made such a deduction, Freddie could not see how she might be able to escape the detonation which she did not doubt was coming!

  Chapter Four – I’ll Cut Her Throat!

  If Sir Michael Dinglepied had deliberately sought to create a panic, his screeched out words were coming close to achieving it!

  Instantly, pandemonium reigned amongst the spectators!

  While there were men present in the crowd who were unflinching in the face of hostile guns, or other hand-held weapons, the danger posed by a ‘bomb’ was a vastly different proposition to their way of thinking. Guided by this assumption, many of them and practically all the women who were assembled gave thought solely to trying to avoid the explosion which they considered to be inevitable. Having that in mind, apart from a few exceptions, they began to scatter like chickens frightened by the passing shadow of a hawk.

  Among the party who had emerged from the railroad depot, the reaction was almost as marked!

  Hoping to take advantage of Freddie Woods being taller and better built than he was to shield him from the blast, the older of the British baronets behaved in a not untypical cowardly fashion for him by darting to cringe behind her after having announced the missile was a ‘bomb’!

  However, being men of greater moral and physical courage, Sir John Uglow Ramage and Harland Todhunter just as speedily exposed themselves even further by starting to place themselves between the beautiful Englishwoman and the danger!

  Two of the Eastern businessmen elected to throw themselves on the ground with arms shielding the back of their heads!

  The other American and the three Canadians stood fast, though ready to duplicate the actions of their companions if this was called for!

  There seemed just a slight possibility such evasive tactics might not prove necessary!

  Showing a complete disregard for his own safety, Lord James Roxton began to lunge forward with both hands rising like those of a cricketer preparing to catch a ball!

  Swiftly though the British aristocrat moved, somebody else was showing an even greater alacrity!

  Coming from amongst the scattering onlookers, clearly having reached a similar conclusion about how to deal with the situation and having a shorter distance than Roxton to travel, a masculine figure converged in a sprint with the flying missile!

  Just over six foot tall, blond haired and with a body filling out to powerful manhood, the would-be rescuer was no more than in his late ’teens. However, his good looking tanned face had lines suggestive of a maturity beyond his years and was set in grim determination. Sweeping off his black Stetson hat while he was advancing showed he had neatly trimmed blond hair. The rest of his attire, like the headdress, was that of a cowhand hailing from the Lone Star State and wishing to ensure everybody knew of his good fortune in being born and raised there. That he was not currently employed at working with cattle was suggested by the deputy town marshal’s badge pinned to the left breast pocket of his dark blue shirt and partially concealed by the near side flap of his unfastened brown and white calfskin vest. For all his youth, he wore a well made brown gunbelt and the twin staghorn handled Army Colts in its low-tied fast draw holsters with the easy assurance of one well versed in their use.

  The reason why the young Texan had removed his hat became obvious as he was approaching his objective. Instead of trying to make the catch with his fingers, as Roxton was intending, he swung it so the open bottom of the crown was facing the approaching spherical black hand grenade. What was more, he did not allow the contact with the Stetson to bring an immediate halt to the lethal device’s progress. Instead, he started to withdraw it as soon as the first suggestion reached him of contact being made. Bringing them both down in a gradually slowing motion, before looking to find out whether the grenade was to be detonated by an external burning fuse which must be extinguished to render it safe, he swung his gaze around to ascertain what was happening elsewhere.

  A single glance was all the blond needed to warn him that, as his interference was not welcomed by everybody in the immediate vicinity, he would be granted no opportunity to defuse the bomb!

  The man who had thrown the grenade and two of his companions were reaching for the Army Colts tucked into the waistbands of their trousers!

  More massive than the rest, with a thick black beard partially concealing brutal features—and being one of the pair wearing moccasins—the fourth man’s right hand was going to the hilt of the big bowie knife sheathed on his belt instead of his firearm!

  Although the trio stood their ground, the enormous man began to lumber forward with the speed of a grizzly bear—which he resembled at that moment—charging its prey!

  Menacing as the approaching man undoubtedly was, the youngster appreciated he only posed a fraction of the peril!

  While such a method of carrying a revolver as was employed by the three men did not offer the speed of withdrawal which the blond Texan knew he could achieve when drawing from his carefully designed gunbelt, he was in no position to make use of his ability to protect himself!

  Having been successful in catching the hand grenade without having it detonate, the youngster realized there was no way in which he could dispose of it quickly and still avoid creating the danger he was trying to avert!

  However, help of a most effective kind was close
at hand!

  Another man, a few years older than the youngster, was coming from amongst the fleeing spectators. A good six foot three in height, with a tremendous spread to his shoulders and his torso trimming to a slender waist set upon long and powerful legs, he towered over the majority of them and was a remarkable physical specimen in every respect. His white Stetson, its crown decorated by a black leather band sporting half a dozen silver conchas, was tilted back sufficiently to display curly golden blond hair kept cut short in the accepted cowhand style. Exuding strength of will and intelligence, albeit at that moment grim of visage, his tanned features were almost classically handsome. Although his attire was that of a Texas cattle country fashion plate, all his clothing was made of the finest materials and specially tailored for him. Such an excellent fit could never have come from the shelves of any store. As was the case with the youngster, he had a deputy’s badge attached to his tan colored shirt. His brown buscadero gunbelt, carved with a ‘basket-weave’ pattern, carried two ivory handled Army Colts in fast draw holsters and, showing signs of being well maintained, clearly had seen much use. Despite weighing over two hundred pounds, he gave no suggestion of being slow, clumsy, or awkward on his feet. Rather he was moving with a springiness of step and very rapidly for one of his great size.

  Showing just as quick and accurate an assessment of the situation as the other blond had displayed, the handsome giant took immediate steps to counteract its dangerous potential. Dipping in a lightning fast motion, his right hand scooped the long barreled Colt from the off side holster. Regardless of the extreme rapidity with which he was moving, proving he was equally well versed in all aspects of making a fast draw, his forefinger remained outside the trigger-guard and his thumb did not offer to ease back the hammer which it had coiled around until an instant after the muzzle was clear of leather and turning forward. 18 What was more, having brought the single action to the fully cocked condition, he showed an awareness of exactly what he must do before he dare take the chance of opening fire.

  Normally when seeing a weapon drawn in such a fashion, a crowd mainly comprised of people with experience in life west of the Mississippi River—such as had foregathered outside the Mulrooney railroad passenger depot—would have shown an appreciation of their peril by either getting out of the possible line of fire, or taking shelter at all speed. Caught up in what amounted to something close to mass hysteria invoked by over imaginative thoughts of how dangerous the blast from the grenade could prove, the people scattering in response to Dinglepied’s shout were failing to adopt such sensible behavior. In trying to escape, some of them were committing the folly of going behind the quartet responsible for the trouble.

  Therefore, instead of swinging the revolver into alignment and firing instinctively while it was still just over waist level—a method which it seemed very likely a man with such a rig would have perfected along with the lightning fast draw—the blond giant continued to elevate it to shoulder level at arm’s length. As he was skidding to a halt a long pace ahead of the other Texan, bringing up his left hand to join its mate on the ivory handle, he took rapid aim using the small V-shaped notch in the tip of the hammer spur and the fairly diminutive foresight at the end of the eight inches long barrel.

  Rudimentary though the sights were, when the Army Colt thundered in the massive and splendidly developed Texan’s powerful grasp, only slightly over a second after he started reaching for it, they served his purpose. Swiftly though the movement had been carried out, it produced an effect. Struck in the center of the chest by a soft round lead .44 caliber ball—more potent in its impact than a pointed and harder bullet—which knocked him in a spinning twirl backwards, the man closest to having his revolver clear was prevented from doing so.

  However, this was only a partial solution to the youngster’s problem!

  Despite having successfully caught the hand grenade, the younger Texan realized he had not completely brought its menace to an end. Inverting the Stetson just sufficiently to allow him to see into the crown, he discovered with relief that there was no external fuse burning to the point where its flame would disappear inside to ignite the waiting black powder. However, as his eyes took in the details of the spherical device, he knew it was far from being innocuous on account of this omission. If anything, it had a greater lethal potential than would have been the case with a burning fuse. For one thing, if his assumptions were correct, he could not chance moving it with other than the greatest of care.

  Doing anything positive to protect himself, the youngster concluded grimly, was out of the question!

  However, one hitherto impending threat was removed!

  Snarling what could have been intended as profane threats, but which emerged as a rumbling more bestial than human, the largest of the quartet continued to rush onwards undeterred by the shot which had narrowly missed him. However, he diverted his attack to the direction of the blond giant who was perhaps an inch taller, but somewhat lighter due to trimming down more at the waist. Having no time to even re-cock the Colt, once again demonstrating the possession of considerable agility, the Texan elected to deal with his assailant in another manner.

  Stepping clear as the huge clip point blade of the bowie knife was directed in a swinging thrust intended to disembowel him, the blond giant caused its wielder to blunder onwards under the impulsion given to the thwarted attack. Then, as the other was passing, he removed his left hand and whipped around his right arm. To have struck with the barrel could have damaged the Colt, its construction being less rugged than that of the ‘solid frame’ revolvers available. Appreciating this, the blond giant made no attempt to do so. Instead, rotating his fist until the knuckles were pointing downwards, he ensured that the less vulnerable strip of steel frame at the base of the ivory butt made the contact.

  Driven with all the force of the blond giant’s powerful muscles, the weapon smashed as was intended into the center of the bearded face of his would-be assailant. Teeth were shattered and blood gushed from the enormous man’s mouth. At the same time, his head was slammed to the rear while his body continued to move forward. Stunned by what a later generation would term the ‘whip-lash’ effect of the impact, his body crumpled and he measured his length on the ground with a jarring thud.

  Despite having dealt with two of the quartet in a competent and effective fashion, the handsome Texan quickly discovered the threat was still far from brought to an end!

  What was more, the danger was now being directed in the blond giant’s direction!

  Making the most of the respite they had been granted by their enormous companion’s reckless attack, the unharmed survivors of the disguised quartet had completed the extrication of their revolvers!

  However, having seen the fate of their companions, the pair were no longer thinking of taking revenge upon the youngster for having thwarted their attempted assassination!

  Instead, each was making the giant Texan his intended target!

  There was, the golden blond realized, no way he could cope sufficiently swiftly with both to prevent one of the pair opening fire upon him!

  The need to do so did not arise!

  Even as the big Texan was returning his left hand to join the right in sighting the Colt at the shorter of the pair, who he estimated was presenting the greater threat, he saw he could refrain from doing so immediately!

  In keeping with her wish to avoid having to ‘hobnob with the quality’ of the party whose arrival she had come to see, Barbara ‘Babsy’ Smith had been standing some distance away at the front of the crowd. Having delayed her departure from the Fair Lady saloon while she donned a blue and white check dress considerably more revealing than her maid’s costume, albeit not quite bordering on the indecorous, she had only worked her way to the forefront of the spectators—employing tactics for dealing with crowds acquired in her Cockney childhood—in time to see Freddie and the men from the train coming out of the passenger depot. Nor, regardless of her fondness for the blond youngster, as
he and his larger fellow peace officer had arrived before she came upon the scene, had she noticed them. If she had, she would have joined them.

  As it was, the curvaceous little blonde was standing beyond the quartet when the attack was launched!

  Despite being alone, the response from Babsy to seeing the danger which threatened her employer was typical of her!

  Letting out a screech of fury which was lost in the commotion going on all around her, the tiny blonde charged recklessly towards the cause of the trouble instead of trying to evade the explosion of the hand grenade!

  Paying no attention to the man shot by the blond giant plunging by her while falling, Babsy was equally content to let him deal with his massive assailant!

  Launching herself through the air, the little blonde crashed against the thrower of the missile just as he was bringing up his Army Colt to point it at the larger of the Texans. Enjoyable as he might have found being brought into such close contact with the most definitely feminine contours of her torso under different conditions, he experienced no such pleasure at that moment. The impact given by her firmly fleshed curvaceous little body jolted the weapon from his grasp and he was sent staggering with her clinging on to him. While he possessed sufficient strength to avoid being knocked from his feet by the unexpected tackle from the rear, his movements otherwise were seriously impaired. One arm was wrapped about his waist and, guided by feminine instinct, the other hand thrust off his ‘tall’ bowler hat to bury its fingers deeply and most painfully into the mass of shoulder length black hair which had been concealed therein until that moment.

  Given succor by the Cockney maid’s gallant intervention, the blond giant made the most of it!

  As the Colt was swinging into a different alignment apparently of its own volition, with the double handed grip resumed, he once again endangered his own life by taking the brief period required to ensure he did not put at risk any of the harmless by-standers; although ‘bymovers’ might have been a more accurate description of their behavior. Not being inflicted by any such concern for the welfare of those about him, the second survivor fired. However, less skill was employed in taking aim and, fortunately without finding any other target, the bullet missed its intended mark. Nevertheless, it passed by so small a margin it carved a nick through the ample material of the Texan’s left sleeve.