Running Irons

Running Irons by J. T. Edson Page B

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Authors: J. T. Edson
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hand, Calamity caught the spinning disc of metal and brought it down to stand on its edge in a crack on the table top.
    “Land-sakes a-mercy,” she said innocently. “It looks like we’re due for a stand-off.”
    “What’ll we do in that case?” asked Danny, just as innocently.
    “Didn’t Mark teach you nothing about—things?”
    “You know, Calam, gal,” Danny drawled, blowing out the lamp. “He just might have done at that.”
    Almost an hour later, just before she went to sleep, Calamity gave a grin. One thing was for sure. Dusty Fog’s kid brother could sure act like a man full grown.

Chapter 5
BREAK UP THAT COW STEALING, DANNY
    S ID W ATCHHORN EASED HIS ARM IN THE SLING, glanced at the rider and wagon which entered the compound and then walked back into the office.
    “Danny’s here, Cap’n,” he said.
    “Alone?” asked Murat, seeing his chance of making the Caspar County investigation—and getting away from the tedium of office work—depart.
    “Never thought he’d bring any of ’em in alive,” Sid answered. “Only he’s not alone. Got a right pretty lil gal along with him, driving a six-hoss Conestoga.”
    Throwing a glance at Sid, the Ranger captain tried to read the tanned, leathery face for a hint thathis wounded man made a joke. He saw nothing, which did not entirely surprise him. However, Murat knew handling the ribbons of a six -horse Conestoga wagon took skill of a high degree. Coming to his feet, Murat walked from the office and looked in the direction of the approaching party.
    “I told you so,” said Sid in doleful delight, “only you didn’t believe lil ole me.”
    “Does anybody?” grunted Murat and walked to meet his other Ranger. “Howdy, Danny. We got a telegraph from Sandy up to Two Trees, said you’d gone on after Choya and his bunch.”
    “Huh huh!” Danny answered.
    “Catch ’em?”
    The words came out more as a statement than a question. No Ranger worth his salt would leave the trail of the men who killed one of his partners and wounded another. Yet Murat could see no sign of the Comanchero’s horses. Then his eyes went to the wagon’s box, studying the various scars on its timber. Two of the bullet holes looked newly made.
    “I caught ’em. They’re in the back of Calam’s wagon.”
    Walking by his captain, Sid headed to the rear of the wagon and started to unfasten its canopy’s lashings. Calamity jumped down from the box and joined the Ranger at the rear.
    “Let me lend you a hand,” she said. “You look like you need one.”
    “Her husband come home early,” answered Sid.
    “That’s allus the way,” Calamity commiserated.
    “How many in there, ma’am?”
    “Four, all there was. And happen you don’t want the other wing busting quit calling me ‘ma’am’.”
    One of the young wranglers dashed up and took charge of Danny’s horse. It said much for Danny’s trust in the youngster that he allowed the sabino’s welfare to the boy’s hands. However, Danny knew he could rely on the youngster to care properly for the big horse and that he must give his report to his captain as quickly as possible.
    “Let’s go into the office, Danny,” Murat suggested as the youngster led the sabino away.
    Following Murat into the office, Danny took a seat at the desk. There was nothing fancy about the room in which the Rangers of Company “G” handled their paper-work and planned their campaigns against the criminal elements of Texas. Just a desk, its top scarred by spur-decorated boot heels and burned by innumerable cigar and cigarette butts, with a few papers sharing the top with the first edition of the famous “Bible Two,” the Texas Rangers’ list of wanted men that would be brought out each year and read by the sons of the star-in-the-circle far more than they ever studied the original book. Some half-a-dozen chairs stood against the walls, two more at the desk. A safe, its door open and shelves empty, graced one wall, a stovefacing it across

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