Free The Fortune Hunters by J. T. Edson Page A

reckon,’ the Kid replied. ‘Knowing Elmo Thackery he wouldn’t cut in too many folks.’
    ‘Do you think one of them might—’ Joan began, then stopped, for she did not know how to carry on.
    ‘That could be,’ admitted the Kid.
    ‘It’d have to be somebody at Casa Thackery though,’ Waco put in. ‘None of the folks we’re gathering would know about Joan or how to find her.’
    ‘Yeah,’ the Kid answered. ‘I’m going down to the saloon to ask one of the girls to come spend the night with you, Joan. Then comes morning, you’re not leaving either me or Waco’s sight for a minute, ‘cepting when you have to go someplace where we can’t follow, and even then we’ll be outside.’
    ‘Do you think they might try at me again?’ she asked.
    ‘I don’t know,’ the Kid replied. ‘But I sure as hell don’t want to face Dusty happen they do try—and bring it off.’
    oooOooo
    * Told in The Wildcats by J. T. Edson.

CHAPTER FOUR
    MARK COUNTER MEETS MR. AND
MRS. CLAUDE THACKERY
    ‘MOVE your feet afore I kick ‘em from under you!’
    Mark Counter reached up a hand to shove back his hat and look at the speaker, hoping against hope that his ears were playing tricks on him.
    They were not. The speaker stood with hands on hips, legs braced apart and body riding the swaying of the railroad coach with the ease of a horseman on a smooth moving mount.
    A cavalry kepi perched on short, curly red hair and a friendly, happy face looked down at him. Although the speaker wore a fringed buckskin jacket, open necked cavalry shirt, red silk bandana tight knotted and rolled at the throat to trail its ends over the shirt, buckskin pants, high heeled riding boots and an ivory handled Navy Colt rode butt forward in the holster at the right side, nobody—unless very short-sighted—would have taken it for a man.
    As usual Calamity Jane’s shirt and pants looked as if they had been bought two sizes too tight. Since they had last met, Calamity appeared to have put on a bit of weight, although she still slimmed down at the middle without the aid of corsets. She had a full, mature figure which would catch the eye in any company.
    ‘Hello, Calam,’ Mark growled and drew down his hat once more. ‘Good-bye.’
    ‘Now is that the way a Southern gentleman greets a lady?’ asked Calamity, flopping on the seat facing him and dropping her blacksnake whip beside her. ‘Anybody’s reckon you aren’t pleased to see me.’
    ‘I’m not.’
    ‘You sure?’ Calamity grinned.
    Thrusting back his hat, Mark sat up and looked at the girl.
    Then he grinned just as broadly.
    ‘It wouldn’t do any good if I said I was. How’ve you been keeping, Calam?’
    ‘Fit as a flea. I only just caught the train and come through here to see if there was anybody I knew aboard, and danged me if I don’t find you.’
    ‘Why sure, Calam girl, it must be fate.’
    ‘If it’s fate, then fate’s sure got a hate for me,’ Calamity answered with a smile that lit up her face. ‘Seems every time I meet up with you I wind up rolling on the floor with some gal trying to scalp me barehanded.’
    ‘How about me?’ Mark objected. ‘Last time we met I wound up wrestling down a couple of bull-whackers.’
    ‘And that sure was a dilly of a brawl,’ Calamity chuckled, for her boasting of Mark’s strength and fighting ability brought the business about and mixed a saloon’s crowd in the general brawl that followed Mark’s effective handling of the pair of bullwhackers.
    ‘It sure was. Where you headed, Calamity gal?’
    ‘For the construction camp at the railhead. I’ve been freighting for the railroad meat hunters, but Buffalo Bill’s got him some English lord or something to take out on a big hunt and wants me along. How about you?’
    ‘I’m headed to the same place—’
    ‘To go hunting with Bill?’ Calamity gasped.
    ‘Nope. I’m looking for a feller called Claude Thackery.’
    For a long moment Calamity did not speak, but her eyes studied