Running Irons by J. T. Edson Page A

to each horse in turn and removed its tarpaulin-wrapped bundle from behind the saddle’s cantle. Unrolling the first bundle, she handed the tarp to Danny and, with an express of distaste on his face, he went to work. First spreading the tarp on the ground, Danny pulled Choya’s body into the center of it. Wrapping the body completely inside the tarp, Danny took the rope from Calamity and bound the bundle so the jolting of the wagon would not uncover its grisly contents. Next came a difficult and not too pleasant task, loading the body into the rear of Calamity’s wagon.
    “I’ll lend you a hand,” the girl said her voice just a mite strained.
    “ Gracias, Calam. Take the feet, I’ll handle the head.”
    Between them, Calamity and Danny lifted first one, then the remainder of the tarpaulin-wrapped shapes into the rear of the girl’s wagon, laying them side by side in the space at the back. With that done, the two of them cleaned up, as well as they could, the traces of the fighting. Calamity gathered up the shattered glass while Danny brought shovel-loads of dirt to cover the bloodstains. Finally they stood back and looked over their work.
    “I took a bath when I arrived,” the girl remarked. “Damned if I don’t feel all dirty again.”
    Danny put a hand to his bristle-covered chin. “And me. I sure hate to have whiskers growing on me. Say, is there any water inside?”
    “I’ll boil some for you. Then while you’re shaving, I’ll go take a bath,” Calamity suggested. “And then I’ll cook us a meal.”
    “Sounds like a real good notion,” Danny answered.
    Opening his bedroll, Danny dug into his warbag and collected his shaving kit. Calamity poured him out some hot water and headed for the swimming hole while he stripped off his shirt to wash and shave. Having been hunting the Comancheros alone for the past three days, Danny had not found time to wash and shave, or even take off hisclothes. He felt a whole heap better with the growth of whiskers and some of the trail dirt removed from his hide. On Calamity’s return, Danny took a change of clothes and headed for the swimming hole. All in all, he both felt and looked a whole heap better on his return. Nor had Calamity wasted her time, but set to and cooked a real good meal for him.
    “You cook just like Mark said,” he told Calamity after the meal, having been too hungry during it to waste time in talking. “Man gets tired of stream water and jerky.”
    “Reckon he does,” she agreed then grinned. “You mean ole Mark said something nice about me?”
    “Shucks, Mark always talks real high and respectful about you, Calam.”
    “I just bet he does,” smiled the girl.
    “There’s no chance of making Austin today,” Danny remarked, looking out of the window at the darkening range. “Happen we start at sun-up, we ought to reach it afore noon tomorrow.”
    “That’s how I saw it,” agreed Calamity. “Let’s go tend the stock. I reckon we’ll leave the four Comanchero hosses here to pay for the damage I did to the window.”
    Danny gave his assent and they went out to feed, water and bed down the horses. On their return, Calamity lit a lamp while Danny laid his saddlecarefully on its side by the wall and unpacked his bedroll.
    “It’s going to be a mite chilly for whoever sleeps in here,” Calamity said, glancing at the shattered window.
    “You take the bedroom then,” replied Danny, courteous to the core as became a Southern gentleman.
    “Shuckens no. Let’s do it fair,” answered Calamity, taking a coin from her pocket and flipping it into the air. “Heads I have the bedroom, tails you get it. Dang it, Danny, it’s tails. We said best of three, didn’t we?”
    “Why sure,” grinned Danny, taking the coin and flicking it up again. It landed on the table with a metallic clink.
    “Three out of five, we said, didn’t we?” asked Calamity, looking at the exposed tails side.
    Once more the coin sailed into the air. Shooting out a