“Sure am. Why don’t you get one?”
“Me? Way I see it, Tommy, amigo, ain’t but the one thing worse’n getting left afoot, and that’s tying in with a good woman.”
“Compadre,” Tommy replied soberly, “you’ll never know how wrong you are until you’ve tried it.”
“Tell you then,” grinned Danny. “Happen I find a real nice gal. I’ll think about trying it.”
After a meal in the cookshack, the two young men joined the other hands at washing, shaving and generally preparing for a trip to town. Such an occasion called for one’s better clothing and the use of one’s go-to-town horse; this latter being selected for its good appearance rather than any ability for working purposes. Once prepared, the hands mounted their horses ready for the ten-mile ride to town.
A fair crowd had already gathered in the Cattle Queen when the Bench J crew arrived. Jerome left his hands to attend to a few pieces of business around town, and some of the crew went to deal with personal affairs, but Danny and Tommy headed for the saloon.
“Hey, Maisie!” Tommy called as he entered and looked around the bar room. “Where-at’s my gal?”
“Not down yet,” Maisie replied. “Set a spell, she’ll be along.”
“Go grab a table, Tommy,” Danny suggested. “I’ll fetch in the drinks.”
While waiting for Mousey to make her appearance, Danny and Tommy sat at a table and drank beer. Danny looked around for some sign of Calamity, yet she did not appear to be present. Pointing out various people in the room, Tommy named them for Danny’s benefit. At last the youngster nodded to a pair of men sitting at a table between them and the stairs leading to the saloon’s private quarters.
“That’s Turk Stocker and his foreman, Dutchy Schatz,” Tommy remarked. “How the hell they manage to make that spread up on the Rock pile pay, I can’t figure.”
Danny glanced at the men. Both appeared to be tall, Stocker slim and with a whisker-stubbled face, Schatz heavier built, with close-cropped hair and a scarred face that looked tough and mean. Each man wore a gun in a contoured holster and dressed a little more prosperously than might be expected for the boss and sole hand of a run-down ranch in a most unsuitable area. From the little Danny had seen of the Rock Pile, it would prove mighty useless for profitable cattle-raising and be unlikely to provide more than a bare living for its owner. Of course, Stocker could have a side-interest such as hiding wanted outlaws to account for his wealth. Danny decided a visit to the Stocker spread might be worthwhile before his identity as a Ranger became known.
Even as Danny made his decision, he saw Mousey and another girl enter the room. Only when he took a second and longer look did Danny recognize Calamity and he decided his fears that she might have been recognized were groundless. Following the direction of Danny’s gaze, Tommy grinned broadly.
“Hey, Mousey’s done got company. Look’s a right nice gal, too.”
“Sure does,” Danny agreed.
However, before the girls could arrive at the two cowhands’ table, they had to pass where Stocker and Schatz sat. After eyeing the girls up and down, Schatz shot out a hand and caught Mousey by the arm.
“Hi, there, Mousey, gal,” he greeted in a harsh, guttural voice. “Sit down and have a drink.”
“I’ve already got one ordered,” Mousey replied, trying to pull her hand free.
“What, beer with some fool kid?” growled Schatz. “You can do better than that, little gal.”
“You let me go!” Mousey yelped.
Tommy’s chair went flying backward as he came to his feet and shot across the room. At the bar Ella caught questioning glances from her two bouncers and Ed Wren but shook her head. Things were a mite slow and Ella knew that nothing livened up a Saturday evening better than a fight, provided it did not get out of hand and she doubted if one between the burly Schatz and young Tommy would go too far.
“Get your cotton-picking hands offen her, Schatz!” Tommy yelled as he rushed forward.
While Tommy did not lack guts, he showed a considerable amount of poor judgment in his method of attack. Schatz thrust himself to his feet, still holding Mousey with his left hand. Even before Tommy could land a blow, the burly man’s big fist shot out. Running in added force to a powerful blow and Tommy went down like a pole-axed steer.
“Tommy!” Mousey screeched and landed a kick on Schatz’s shin with enough force to make him howl and release her. “Tommy!” she repeated and dropped to her knees at the youngster’s side.
“Why you little whore!” Schatz snarled and started to move forward. “I’ll——!”
“Get your lousy, buffalo-mange stinking, gut-turning self away from her, lard-guts!” Calamity spat out. Lacking her whip, she reached for the neck of the nearest bottle as a means of defense.
Before Calamity could lay hands on the weapon, Schatz turned and caught her by the arm. “I likes a gal with spunk,” he told her.
“You like licking kids, too,” a cold voice cut in.
Slowly Schatz turned, pulling Calamity around after him. In that he might have counted himself lucky, for Calamity had just been preparing to drive up her knee into his lower regions hard enough to chill down his milk for a spell. However, she refrained as she saw the speaker and hoped that Danny had learned fighting in the same school as his elder brother; because if he had, mister, that unwashed, square-headed, bristle-haired, no-account hard-case was sure as hell due for a real Texas-size shock.
“My, the cowhands are sure snuffy tonight,” said Schatz and shoved Calamity away from him, then launched a blow straight at Danny’s head.
Only this time he struck at a different proposition to his previous challenger. Danny might not be much older than Tommy, but bore the advantage of training at the hands of masters of the art of rough-house brawling.
Up came Danny’s left hand, but he did not clench his fist. With the open palm he slapped Schatz’s driving-out right arm in a snappy motion which deflected it away from him. Instantly Danny ducked under the deflected punch and took a short step forward with his left foot so as to halt slightly behind Schatz’s back. At the same time Danny brought up his right arm, across Schatz’s body to grip the burly man’s shirt at the right shoulder. Pushing hard on to the shoulder with his hand, Danny hooked his right leg behind Schatz’s left calf and thrust with it. The moves took Schatz by surprise. He gave a startled yell as his feet left the floor and he went over to land on his back.
Calamity gave a sigh of relief. It appeared that Danny had learned fighting at the same source as did his illustrious elder brother. From the expression on Schatz’s face as he came up from the floor, Calamity figured Danny was likely to need all the learning he could lay hands on.
Watching Danny’s fists come up, Schatz charged at the blond Ranger with big hands raised to grab. Only he fell into the trap Danny laid for him. Danny did not figure to try using his fists against the bigger man—not until after setting Schatz up for them.
Suddenly and unexpectedly Danny raised his left leg and drove it out to land a stamping kick on the other’s kneecap, bringing Schatz’s rush to a sudden halt. Even as agony knifed through Schatz and he bent to clutch at the injured knee, Danny threw a right-hand punch. It landed hard and with precision on the side of Schatz’s jaw and the big man crashed to the floor again. Spitting out curses and blood, Schatz jerked the Colt from his holster but did not get a chance to use it. Danny leapt forward and stamped down with his left foot. A cowhand’s boots carried high heels designed to spoke into the ground and hold firm while roping cattle or horses on foot. Human flesh being less hard, it did not stand up well to the impact of a boot heel smashing down upon it. Schatz let out a screech of pain, lost his hold on the Colt and jerked up into a sitting position. Like a flash, Danny kicked up with his other leg. The boot toe caught Schatz under the jaw, snapping back his head and slamming him down again. This time he did not look like he would be getting up to make more trouble.