The Fortune Hunters by J. T. Edson

been built. Every eye turned to Joan and her companions, the floor manager started forward with a couple of bouncers tagging along on his heels.
    ‘Yahoo!’ Joan yelled. ‘Hit that bar again, boys, and serve them some decent liquor for once, you bardogs! Take the show folks a bottle of champagne.’
    ‘Have you gone crazy, Joan?’ the floor manager growled.
    ‘I’ve just had good news,’ she replied.
    ‘You’re stunk-up drunk!’ the manager spat out and eyed the two Texans. ‘And you pair best look through the doors.’
    ‘Hold it, Stan!’ Joan snapped.
    Stan held it. He noticed that the bouncers showed a marked reluctance to tangle with the two young cowhands. Also he felt curious as to why Joan, who he knew could hold her liquor, should act in such a manner on the few drinks she had taken that evening.
    ‘What’s it all about?’ he growled.
    ‘The lady’s done come into money, friend,’ the Kid drawled. ‘Look at this, Stan,’ Joan went on, handing the man the letter.
    Although he considered himself a shrewd poker player, with a face that gave only such indication of his emotions as he wished it to, Stan stared bug-eyed at the paper after reading a couple of lines. The more so because he had worked in Mulrooney and recognised Lawyer Talbot’s handwriting. Here was no cowhand joke, Joan really did have a share in a sizeable fortune.
    ‘Well,’ Joan said with a smile. ‘Do I set them up?’
    ‘Sure you can,’ the floor manager replied. ‘Good for you, Joan.’
    By now the crowd realised something of more than usual importance had happened. Western crowds were never noted for looking gift-horses in the mouth, especially when the gift-horse carried free drinks with it. Once more they swarmed to the bar to accept Joan’s hospitality, although on this occasion they were treated to much better liquor, for the bartenders read the floor manager’s sign correctly.
    ‘Hey, Red,’ Joan said, catching the arm of the girl who shared the last pot in the card game. ‘Where’s Beegee?’
    Of all the people in the saloon good old Beegee must be the one to help Joan celebrate. Joan intended to return all Beegee’s belongings, including the fancy red dress Beegee sneaked out of a shop knowing Joan wanted it. Not that Joan objected, given half a chance she would have done the same to Beegee. They had been friends for more years than either liked to think about and Joan wanted Beegee to share her good fortune. Perhaps Beegee would come along with her to collect the money, then settle down in some permanent town and open a dress shop. It had been their ambition to do so, even though neither of them really expected to ever achieve it; and both were reaching the age where the better class saloons thought twice before hiring them.
    ‘She went out, looked all riled up,’ Red replied, pulling her arm free so as to head for the bar and collect her free drink.
    Wasn’t that just like old Beegee though? Getting her wild up and storming off when Joan had good news to share with her. All right, if that was how she wanted it, that was the way Joan intended to play it.
    For the first time Joan remembered how little clothing she wore. A grin came to her face. She reckoned Beegee would be fit to be tied if the blonde saw her in the red dress and wide brimmed hat. When Beegee got that way, things were likely to pop and Joan was so happy she wanted to do something violent. To hell with Homer Trent’s orders, after tonight Joan and Beegee would not need to care what the saloon’s owner thought.
    ‘Look, boys,’ she said to the Kid and Waco. ‘I’m going out the back and to the hotel to dress and fix my face. Come on down in about ten minutes and meet me. We’ll hooraw the town.’
    ‘Whatever you say, ma’am,’ the Kid replied.
    ‘Hey, Joan!’ yelled a woman. ‘You’re not running out on us now you’re rich, are you?’
    ‘Nope!’ Joan yelled back and the crowd fell silent to hear what she had to say.