Running Irons

Running Irons by J. T. Edson

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Authors: J. T. Edson
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the slope?”
    “Take ’em. I’d seen their hosses when they jumped us and recognized those four when I peeked over the top of the rim. Reckoned that Choya and his bunch’d be in the house and aimed to sneak in then take ’em by surprise. Only you come through the window afore I made it. Which same I was lucky, didn’t know about that jasper in the backhouse.”
    “The Ysabel Kid’d’ve checked on it afore he moved in.”
    “Which same I aimed to do,” Danny told her calmly. “He taught me all he knows about tracking and things.”
    “Which same I never saw the Kid show any sign of knowing about—things,” grinned Calamity. “Though he does know some about tracking.”
    “Anyways you stopped me when you came through the window and that jasper came out the backhouse like a coon off a log when he heard the whooping and hollering, and I figured to stay hid until I saw what might be needed. How come you-all was fool enough to get caught, Calam, gal?”
    Quickly, her sentences liberally sprinkled with a flow of invective that brought an admiring grin to Danny’s lips, Calamity told her story. Nor did his admiration lessen when he heard of the manner in which she prevented the men from recognizing her true potential by donning a skirt and acting as the unsuspecting lady of the house. Take it any way a man looked, old Calamity was quite a gal and lived up to the flattering comments Dusty, Mark and the Kid made about her after their return from the first meeting. Not many women would have shown her presence of mind. Fact being, few women, even in the self-reliant West, could have handled things so efficiently or come out of the situation which had faced Calamity as well as she did.
    On reaching the top of the slope, Calamity looked to where Danny’s horse stood by a large blueberry bush. It came as almost a surprise to see that Danny did not ride a paint like his brother’s personal mount. However, the horse looked to be a real finecritter, sixteen hands high and showing good breeding. The horse had a coloration Calamity could never remember seeing before, a light red, almost pinkish roan with a pure white belly.
    “What in hell color do you call that?” she asked.
    “A sabino, ” Danny explained. “Got him below the line. Mexican cowhands go a whole heap on them for go-to-town hosses and for work.”
    “I’ll take your word for it,” sniffed Calamity. “Looks a mite flashy to me. Got me a buckskin with the outfit that’d run his legs down to the shoulders in a straight mile race.”
    “Got me a week’s furlough to come when I pull in from this lot,” Danny answered, meeting her challenge. “Happen you can lay hands on your crow-bait, we’ll run us a race.”
    “You got a deal. Dobe Killem, which same being my boss, told me to wait in Austin for two weeks, grab some work if I could to keep me busy until he brings the rest of the bunch in.”
    “So you’ll be in for a week with nothing to do,” drawled Danny, taking up his sabino’s reins. “Just like me.”
    “Must be fate in it someplace.” Calamity answered, eyeing him with interest. “You got a steady gal?”
    “Not steady. Always figgered a young lawman shouldn’t get too close or attached until he knows if he’s going to make the grade or not.”
    “Which same’s as good an excuse as any.”
    “Sure,” Danny agreed. “Now let’s get down there and tend to those four Mexicans, shall we?”
    “I thought you’d never ask,” Calamity answered.
    On returning to the cabin, Danny attended to his horse. Then, with Calamity at his side, he returned to the front of the cabin and prepared to start the distasteful task of cleaning up.
    “Get their tarps, Calam,” he ordered, “and bring one of their ropes.”
    Normally Calamity might have objected to a new acquaintance, especially a young man, giving her orders. Yet she figured Danny knew what he was doing, and anyways she could always object if she decided he did not. Calamity went

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