Free Troubled range by John Thomas Edson Page A

handed that blonde hussy the licking of her life as a warning to stay away from Calamity Jane's man.
    While releasing Belle's blouse, Calamity made up her mind how to handle the situation. She had been taught to fight by soldiers and freighters, men who showed her the value of a fist over hair-yanking. In more than one saloon brawl this knowledge had given her a decided edge over the other girl.
    "First one into her belly," Calamity thought. "Then the next to her jaw."
    The first drove into the stomach. Up came the other hand and caught the down-dropping jaw—
    And Calamity hit the floor on her rump, her head spinning. She had learned an important lesson. The other girl also knew how to use her fists.

    Now it was Belle's turn to become over-confident. She sprang forward and drew back her foot. Calamity showed that she had learned other lessons in the art of self-defence. Quickly she hooked her left foot behind Belle's left ankle, placed her right foot on Belle's left knee, pulled on the ankle and pushed on the knee. Caught with her other leg raised for the kick, Belle could not stop herself going over, but she broke the worst of her fall with her hands.
    They came up and flung themselves at each other. For a time it might have been two men fighting. They used their fists, wrestling throws and holds, none of the usual tactics of a pair of fighting women. The watching crowd yelled their encouragement and already the house gamblers were taking bets on the results. Not that they had any clear indication of which girl would win for they seemed evenly matched.
    "Howdy, Mark," a sleepy voice said.
    Turning from watching Belle drive Calamity back into the crowd with a battery of punches, Mark looked at the speaker.
    "Howdy, Joel. What're you fixing to do about this? Speaking as a duly appointed officer of the law that is."
    "Ain't doing nothing," Stocker replied, watching the crowd scatter as the two girls spun round and through them. "My job's to keep the peace and I wouldn't reckon anybody's breaking it." He paused and eyed Mark with that same sleepy gaze. "How do you figure in on this?"
    "Could say I brought them together," Mark admitted. "But, knowing Calamity, she'd've come in here and tangled with somebody, and B—Marigold's the most likely one for her to pick from."
    "Huh huhi" Stocker grunted. "Figured it that way myself. Only I wouldn't have expected Miss Marigold to be the one. Alius struck me as being a real lady."
    The "real lady" was at that moment swinging Calamity around by the hair and sent her sprawling across the room to hit the wall. Calamity seemed dazed by the impact and stood with legs apart, back braced against the wall.
    "Best stop—!" Stocker began as Belle moved in towards Calamity.
    His words stopped for Belle did not deliver a crippling kick at her helpless opponent. Instead she stopped and

    started to slap Calamity's face, alternating hands and swinging the other girl's head from side to side. The pain of the slaps revived Calamity and she thrust forward, her hands tangling into Belle's hair. If Belle's yell of pain was anything to go by, the grip Calamity had on her hurt.
    The fight developed into a more female brawl with Calamity's hair-yanking opening. Reeling backwards, the two girls spun across the room in a flailing tangle of arms and legs, pulling hair, swinging slaps and punches. One piece of feminine fighting was denied them. Calamity's work did not tend to allow her to grow long nails, and Belle knew men objected to playing with a gambler who had long enough fingernails to make identifying nicks on the cards.
    Even without scratching, the two girls put on a tolerable example of the art of bar-room brawling. On their feet, or rolling over and over on the floor, they went at it'for almost fifteen minutes without a pause.
    Then Belle was flat on her back and Calamity dropped to kneel astride her with the intention of grabbing her hair and bouncing her head on the floor. Belle knew as well as